


Unlikely Friends

by Alexolotl



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: (somewhat obviously), Canon-Typical Violence, Deacon - Freeform, Developing Friendships, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship, Gen, POV Multiple, Piper - Freeform, Post-Blind Betrayal, Post-Canon, Preston Garvey - Freeform, Railroad dynamics, Spoilers, Sturges - Freeform, nick valentine - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-04 16:00:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 58,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12172161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexolotl/pseuds/Alexolotl
Summary: An enthusiastic Minuteman, a fiery singer and a serious Railroad agent make for a strange trio. However, when necessity unites them under a common cause, they must watch each others' backs whilst confronting their own personal demons, and they find themselves on the rocky road to friendship.





	1. Haz  - New Faces

A blast of warmth and the sound of music hit Lieutenant Harry ‘Haz’ Stewart in the face as he pushed open the door to the Dugout, flicking rainwater out of his hair. He’d heard the rumours of live entertainment and had managed to secure a stint down at the Minutemen’s recruitment office in Diamond City, giving him the chance to check it out for himself. Evidently it had been worth it; the music was tinny but the voice accompanying it was rich and tuneful. As he entered the bar proper he caught sight of the singer to whom it belonged, a blonde-haired woman in a red dress, stood behind a beaten-up microphone. She glanced at him as he walked in, catching his eye; he smiled and she returned the gesture as she sang. The moment of distraction was enough to cause Haz to walk straight into the back of someone. 

“Why don’t you look where you’re fucking going?” the man said, turning around. Haz swallowed. The stranger was both taller and broader than him, and surrounded by the aroma of Bobrov’s Best Moonshine. Haz took off his hat. 

“My apologies, sir, it won’t happen again,” he replied. 

“It better fucking hadn’t. You Minutemen think - think you can get away with anything these days, huh?” 

“Well, sir, I’m sorry you feel that way-”

“What’re you trying to say by calling me ‘sir’, kid?” the man continued, and Haz could tell that they were drawing stares. In the background, he was faintly aware of the song ending. There was a smattering of applause, the singer saying she was going to be right back. 

“Nothing at all, I’m simply trying to be respectful. I do the same to everybody,” Haz said, wishing that the man would just go back to his drink. The last thing he wanted was a bar fight. 

“Why don’t you leave him alone?” Haz and the man turned in unison to stare at the person who had just spoken. It was the singer, her arms folded, eyes narrowed. 

“You stay out of this, sweetie,” the man growled. 

“Stay out of it? No! I saw what happened, this man just bumped into you and apologised and you blew up at him for no reason! Leave him alone!” 

“Listen, you’re just a trashy singer and he’s just a-”

“Okay, enough of this, time for you to go, my friend.” Haz breathed a sigh of relief as Vadim showed up, apparently having decided to actually do his job as the bar’s owner, and took the drunken man by the arm. He struggled and shouted, but Vadim was used to dealing with that on a daily basis and removed him without a problem. Haz exchanged a stunned look with the singer. 

“Thanks for stepping in. I really appreciate it,” he said. She shrugged. 

“You’re welcome. He’s been here for a while, getting on my nerves… that was just the last straw,” 

“Well, thank you. And you’re not a trashy singer at all. I liked the song,” Haz added with a smile. She laughed as they headed over to the bar. 

“Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” 

“Ah! Haz, my friend! Sorry about that unpleasantness, it is good to see you again! And I see you have met Sofia!” Vadim returned, heralded by his booming voice. 

“Oh, of course, introductions! I’m Lieutenant Harry, of the Minutemen. But everyone calls me Haz,” he said, sticking out a hand. Sofia shook it. 

“I’m… well, I’m Sofia. A singer, as you know,” she said with a grin. 

“Can I get you two anything? Sofia - water, yes? Haz?” Vadim looked to him as he tossed Sofia a bottle of water.

“Just a beer, please, mate.” Haz replied, sliding the caps across the bar.

“So, what brings you to Diamond City?” Sofia asked as Vadim placed a bottle on the counter and cracked it open. Haz took a sip. 

“Here on a recruitment run. Though I’ve got to admit… I did try and get posted here because I’d heard there was some new live entertainment going. It’s nice to have some outside of Goodneighbor,” 

“Well, that’s flattering. I hope it was worth the trip,” she said with a smile, taking a long sip of water. “Listen, I should get back to it, but if you’re going to be here later we can pick this up again then?” she asked. Haz nodded. 

“Sure! Sounds great! I’ll be right here,” he grinned. 

“Great. I’ll see you then,” she said with a smile, and sauntered back over to her microphone. Haz watched her go, then looked back to Vadim as he felt a friendly punch on his arm. Vadim gave him a wink. Haz just rolled his eyes. 

 

He returned to the Dugout every night from then on. The music completed the laid-back atmosphere, and the singer herself seemed to want to be friends; their conversations got longer and longer. Now, the bar was empty but for the Bobrovs, Sofia and Haz. Yefim, the quieter of the brothers, was sweeping up in one corner and Vadim was cleaning (well, ‘cleaning’) glasses in another. Sofia and Haz sat at a small table, chatting over whiskey (not quite summoning the courage to try Bobrov’s Best Moonshine at this time of night). They had been talking for over an hour now, just back and forth, and Haz was enjoying it. 

“So what made you decide to become a Minuteman?” Sofia asked. He sighed, circling the rim of his glass with one finger. 

“I grew up on the outskirts of the Commonwealth, and I heard so many tales of the Minutemen’s heroism. Of when they first rose to prominence, defending Diamond City from Super Mutants, and of the towns they had saved, how they would help anyone without asking for payment,” “So naturally you wanted to join,” Sofia said with a smile. 

“Yeah. We were pretty out of the way, a tiny little village, but we got Minutemen stopping by sometimes… one of them gave me my hat when I was just a kid.” The memory stabbed into him, tugged at his heartstrings, but he pushed back the sadness. Focused on the positives.

“It must have been hard when they fell to pieces,” she said. 

“It was, but even then there were tales of Minutemen who held true to the ideal - Preston Garvey and his band, and a few others. I didn’t know whether to believe the rumours or not, but when Radio Freedom came back on and the call went out that the Castle had been retaken, that the Minutemen were looking for recruits…” Haz smiled, remembering the warmth that had spread through him as he’d found out. The hope. “I headed there straight away.” There was more to the tale, a lot more than that, but it didn’t need dredging up now. “And you? What made you decide to become a singer, then?” he asked. Sofia shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. 

“I haven’t lived in the Commonwealth for very long, but we just about got the signal from Diamond City Radio on the farm outpost I lived on. It was crackly, but it was enough. Singing isn’t really something I decided to do, it’s something which just… happened. I’d sing whilst doing my chores, and people would tell me it sounded nice, so then I’d perform at night,”

“That PipBoy must’ve been quite the find,” Haz nodded to the device lying on the table in front of her. 

“Oh - yeah. It was… lucky,” a strange expression crossed Sofia’s face, and Haz decided not to push the matter more. “I don’t think I would’ve become professional without it. I suppose you can sing without backing, but I like having the tapes. It sounds a little tinny, though,” 

“So does the radio. It doesn’t matter, your singing is good enough by itself,” Haz said.

“Thanks.” Sofia smiled. 

Then, they both hushed as the door swung open and a figure in hooded leathers walked in, dripping wet from the rain that was falling outside. The figure had a sniper rifle strapped to their back and what looked to be a pistol on their hip.

“If they’re looking for a room, they’re out of luck… I think Yefim’s rented them all,” Sofia whispered to Haz as he too sat wondering who the figure was. 

“Hey, Vadim,” it was a woman’s voice. “Do you have a Geiger counter?” Haz and Sofia exchanged a glance. Sofia was clueless - a Geiger counter was an odd request at a time like this, after all - but Haz had to conceal his surprise for a different reason. He was a ‘tourist’ - a friend of the Railroad, occasional informant, but not a member - and knew exactly what the request was. It was the Railroad’s sign, and he had an idea as to who the woman was now, too. 

“Oh. Mine is in the shop, friend,” Vadim replied. The correct countersign. _Vadim_ worked for the Railroad? Haz never knew, although now he saw the double meaning behind the oil lamp on the Dugout’s counter. “Do you need room?” Vadim said in a hushed voice, but not so hushed that the pair at the table couldn’t listen in. He was not a naturally quiet man.

“Yeah, considering I’ve just walked here in the pouring rain and it’s nearly midnight, that’d be nice,” the Railroad agent hissed. She pulled down her hood, revealing a mess of short brown waves. It _was_ her!

“I know her,” Haz muttered to Sofia. “Hey!” he called, standing up. “Foxtrot!” 

“Huh?” the agent turned, barely concealing the flutter of her hand towards her pistol as she did so. However, recognition dawned on her face. “Oh it’s - you. What are you doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” Haz said. He gestured to the table. “Whiskey?” 

“... Don’t mind if I do,” Foxtrot said, after a moment’s hesitation. She knocked the drink back easily. “God. This stuff is shit. At least it does the job,” 

“So what brings you to these parts?” Haz asked. Sofia looked between them, and threw her hands in the air. 

“Are either of you going to explain what’s going on?” “The name’s Foxtrot. I know him from around,” she gestured to Haz, and he had the sudden realisation that she only knew him by his codename, Waywatcher. 

“That’s very vague,” Sofia raised an eyebrow. 

“The Minutemen get around. He’s helped me out a few times,” Foxtrot replied easily. Haz nodded. Technically true. No need to go into the details, a.k.a. that the said ‘help’ had not been killing raiders or supplying food but in fact running dead drops and providing intel. 

“Riiiight. Well, I’m Sofia,” 

“New around here?” Foxtrot asked. 

“Pretty new. I’ve been in the city for a few weeks now,” Sofia replied, pushing her hair over her shoulder and finishing off her whiskey. “What brings you to town?” 

“Just passing by on my way elsewhere. It was a pretty rough journey, so I’m gonna go get some rest. Catch you later,” she said, pushing back her chair with a scrape and heading to the Dugout’s rooms. Haz glanced at Sofia. 

“And you two are… friends?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Well, kind of. We know each other! It was good to share a drink,” Haz replied, picking up his hat. 

“Are you kidding? I mean, no offence, but I don’t think I’ve met someone so closed off before in my life,” Sofia said. 

“Yeah, she’s a bit of a closed book, but I just roll with it. Right, I really need to be up early for the recruitment in the morning, so I’d best get going. I’ll… see you tomorrow evening?” he tried to push down the slight nervousness which arose as he said it. Sofia plucked his hat out of his hand and placed it on his head, tapping the brim down with one finger, and grinned. 

“I’ll be here, lieutenant. See you tomorrow,” she said, and sauntered away. After a few moments of standing there staring, Haz felt a hand land on his shoulder. 

“Haha! My friend, you have _scored_ today,” Vadim said with a grin. Haz rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep his own grin off his face as he walked back from the Dugout and into the recruitment office. 

 

Haz’ eyes flew open as he felt a hand pressed over his mouth. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness that still blanketed the office, then he saw Foxtrot standing over him, finger pressed to her lips. Once she seemed sure she had his silence, she released him and pointed to the ladder that lead to the roof. She climbed, wincing at the slight creak of the ladder, and in a moment they were standing out on the roof, the stadium’s lights and the stars shining above them. After a brief moment of staring, Haz broke the silence. “What is this about?”

“We need to talk about what you did. Come on. I thought you were a smarter guy than that,” Foxtrot hissed. 

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. Engaging me in a conversation in public? Whilst you were with someone else? What were you thinking?” 

“You looked tired and damp, I was just trying to be friendly,” Haz replied, hurt. Foxtrot stared at him for a moment, before sighing. 

“Of course you were. Look, I don’t doubt your good intentions, but you’ve got to remember that even with the Institute gone, the Railroad still has to be cautious. They weren’t the only ones who hunted us, and whilst your general has helped relations a bit, there’s still a lot of anti-synth feeling around. And initiating contact in public places, especially around random civilians, is a real good way to get our cover blown,” 

“Of course. I’m sorry. I’ll be more careful in future… is there anything I can do to help?” Haz said, rubbing his forehead. The drinks mixed with his natural exuberance hadn’t made for a very subtle man that evening. This was why he wasn’t in the Railroad proper. Well, one reason.

“Just… look, I saw you were hitting it off with that girl last night, and I’m not going to tell you to not see her or anything, but be careful. You can’t go telling people about the Railroad just because they have a pretty face,”

“Roger that. I won’t let out anything,” Haz nodded, deciding now wasn’t the time to argue that he and Sofia _weren’t_ together.

“Alright. Just keep it in mind. Mixing our work and relationships can be hard. And… dangerous.” Haz felt his stomach tense. He didn’t want anything to happen to Sofia because of him. Foxtrot seemed to notice his unease. “Look, don’t worry about it too much, you’re just a tourist, so you’re unlikely to get targeted,” Haz felt sure that wasn’t intended to sound quite as backhanded as it did. “Just some friendly advice. If we need you again, we’ll use the dead drop near Back Street Apparel, but don’t be surprised if you’re left in quarantine for a while after this. Now, I’ve got collections to make from two other informants before six this morning, and security assessments to do, so I’d better get going,” 

“Whoa, there’s more informants in Diamond City?” “Diamond City’s the second information hub of the Commonwealth, after Goodneighbour. Of course we keep eyes and ears here,” 

“Who are they?” Haz asked, curious.

“Sorry, Waywatcher. That’s compartmentalised outside your area.” Foxtrot shook her head with a smile. “I’ll see you around. Forgive the dramatic exit - I don’t want to risk waking up your friend in the office,” she said, and with that, dropped over the side of the building and disappeared. 


	2. Sofia - Friends and Acquaintances

“Hi there! Piper Wright, Publick Occurrences.” Sofia was having breakfast in the Dugout when the door swung open and admitted Diamond City’s reporter. “You’re Sofia, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Sofia replied. She hesitated for a moment before shaking the outstretched hand, feeling her heart sink. She admired Piper, as another woman making a living in an unconventional profession, but the simple truth was that the reporter put her on edge. She’d seen various copies of her newspaper floating around, from the more recent to from before the Institute was destroyed, and it was all so... intense. Like she didn’t care what the Institute could do, how dangerous they could be. “What is it?” Sofia asked, shaking herself from her thoughts. “I mean… can I help?”

“Well… I was wondering if maybe I could get an interview? After all, you’re the up and coming thing in Diamond City these days,” Piper smiled.

“Am I?” Sofia felt a flutter of excitement. Even sat in the bar, or on her narrow bed in her tiny room, every time she thought of herself as a performer she got that flutter. _I’m here. I made it. In spite of everything, I’m a performer, and I’m the ‘up and coming’ thing._ “Well… I need to rehearse, but…”

“I won’t take up too much of your time! Just a couple questions, a flavour for the new personality in town…” Piper pleaded with a smile. Sofia finished off the bread she was eating.

“... Okay. What did you want to ask?”

“Well… hm. First of all, you have a PipBoy to help you with your performances, playing backing tracks and whatnot. That’s quite a gadget! Were you a Vault dweller?” Piper asked, flipping open her notepad and biting the top of her pencil. Sofia felt her insides tense.

“No. I wasn’t a Vault dweller,”

“Huh, interesting - where’d you get such a nifty piece of tech, then?”

“I just… got lucky scavenging. That’s all.” She hoped this would be enough to satisfy the reporter. It was the truth. She just didn’t feel like giving any more detail.

“Not a bad find. Okay, now you’re done eating, did you want to walk and talk? I thought we could go past the farms and around the Wall or something, since it’s a nice day,”

“Is it?” Sofia blinked. Living in the Dugout, a building with no windows, did mean that she sometimes went a long time before discovering what the weather was like. Piper grinned, clearly amused.

“Yeah, it is. So what do you say?”

“Sure,” Sofia shrugged.

The sky was clear and the sun shone on Diamond City, making the Wall seem even greener than it usually was.

“So… you’ve been here for just about a month, what do you think of Diamond City?” Piper asked. “Well, uh, it’s very safe, and it’s got so many people in it. I thought it would be the best place to set up as an entertainer. I think I fit in here better than in Goodneighbour,”

“Oh, you spent time in Goodneighbour? Want to tell me about that?”

“It’s… lively. I was only really there because I didn’t have anywhere else to be, and I didn’t want to stay because the performer niche is already filled there,”

“Yeah, Magnolia. She’s great. Not that you aren’t! Er, anyway, questions, questions…” Piper flicked back in her notebook, flustered. “Oh! People love the… I dunno, melancholy feel of some of your original songs, and I wondered: what’s their meaning?” Sofia felt herself tense up.

“I sing about my life. It’s how I express myself,” she said, trying to pass it off like it was no big deal. _Don’t ask any more questions about it, don’t press it, please please please…_

“Wow. There’s some pretty heavy stuff in there-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sofia cut Piper off. Piper turned, and Sofia thought she was going to argue, but instead she looked down.

“I understand.” Seeing Sofia’s cautious expression, she continued. “Really, I do. Everybody has their story, and their way of making it better. I’ve got the paper, and I’m guessing your songs do something similar, right?”

“That’s right,” Sofia replied, still terse. She didn’t want her troubles spread all over Diamond City. “Was there anything else?”

“Uh… tell our readers one thing that surprised you about Diamond City since arriving!” Piper said, trying to salvage the mood.

“Um. The noodles. I don’t know what I was expecting in the way of food, but I don’t think it was noodles,” Sofia said, as upbeat as she could manage. “But to answer seriously, I suppose seeing so much support for the Minutemen even in a city with its own security was surprising. The flags flying, the discounts they get, the recruitment office…” Sofia broke off, smiling as she thought of Haz. It had been just over a week since their conversation with his mysterious friend, and a few days since she’d last seen him - his stint at the recruitment office had ended and he had left to run the recruits over to the Castle, but he’d said he would try and be back soon.

“Well, people appreciate what the Minutemen did. They took down the Institute, and they make the Commonwealth better for everyone,” Piper said, and if Sofia wasn’t mistaken she had a dreamy look in her eyes. Did Piper have a special Minuteman of her own?

“Some of their policy is a bit… overidealistic, but destroying the Institute was the best thing anybody ever did in the Commonwealth,” Sofia said, surprising herself with her own forcefulness. Piper looked a little surprised.

“Well… you’re not wrong there. About the destroying the Institute bit, that is. What do you mean by ‘overidealistic’?” she asked, and suddenly the headline-hunting reporter had returned - the side of Piper that Sofia absolutely didn’t trust with her secrets.

“I just mean that you can’t always trust everybody. The Minutemen trying to help everyone is admirable, but… well,” Sofia shrugged. She didn’t like how easy they were about helping synths - _I mean, synths work for the Institute. And they… carry out their will -_ but she didn’t want to offend them, especially in the middle of a city which flew their flag. “Anyway. Is that everything? I need to rehearse,”

“Uh, yeah, that’s all! Thanks for your time,” Piper flipped her notebook closed. “I’ll see you around!” she gave Sofia a thumbs up. Sofia smiled tightly and turned to head back to the Dugout.

 

After spending the morning rehearsing and scribbling down ideas for lyrics, Sofia headed for the noodle stand for lunch. One of the things she had quickly learnt about Diamond City - you ate at the noodle stand.

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?” Takahashi, the noodle-serving Protectron, uttered the only phrase he was able to say.

“Yes,” replied Sofia, and recieved a bowl of steaming noodles for her caps. Glancing around for a seat, she saw a familiar face already there - a girl around her own age that she’d spoken to a few times at the Dugout.

“Hey, Ellie,” Sofia said, walking up. Ellie Perkins smiled.

“Oh, hey! How are you doing?”

“Not too bad. Do you mind if I-?” Sofia gestured to the stool next to her.

“Oh, no, not at all! I’m not waiting on anyone,” Ellie replied, forking a few noodles into her mouth with a grin.

“So, how are you, then?” Sofia asked.

“Not too bad. Still working the small cases whilst Nick is out of town,” she replied. “Some Upper Stands bigshot hired us to find out if his wife is cheating on him,” Ellie rolled her eyes. Sofia loved being a performer, but she had to admit that Ellie’s job - working for a private investigator - sounded exciting, even though Ellie tended to mind the Agency whilst her boss, this ‘Nick Valentine’, went out of the city to handle the big cases. Sofia hadn’t met the man, or even heard much about him; it seemed carving a profession out of other people’s business made you something of an outcast.

“Do you think she is?” Sofia grinned, eating some of her noodles.

“Hard to tell. She definitely disappears every evening, but I haven’t figured out where to yet. Maybe she’s got it going on with one of the guards,” Ellie giggled. “Speaking of, I heard that you and a certain Minuteman have been chatting lately,”

“What? It’s got around that fast?” Sofia wasn’t angry, but surprised.

“Oh, it’s not big gossip, but I was in the Dugout asking about this case and Vadim told me about that on the side. You know what he’s like,”

“That I do,” Sofia nodded. “Look, we’re not _together,_ me and Haz, _”_

“Would you like to be?” Ellie asked, her teasing grin faded but not entirely gone.

“I - well. I don’t know him that well, but we’ve spoken a bunch of nights in a row. He comes to see me down at the Dugout, and we talk once my set’s done. It’s nice,”

“I’m pretty sure most people would kill for a partner who did stuff like that,” Ellie said. “Some people probably have.” Sofia chuckled.

“Maybe. Look, I’m just seeing where it goes right now. He’s nice, _really_ nice, and I can see us getting together. We click nicely, but maybe I’m just infatuated… wait, that sounds way more romantic than I meant it to,”

“I get what you mean. Well, only time will tell. You might as well try,” Ellie grinned. Sofia nodded back, then turned suddenly as she heard a voice behind them.

“Look who’s here!” it was Haz. Sofia jumped up.

“You’re back!” Haz took off his hat and gave a mock bow.

“Yep, safe and sound. Recruits delivered into the waiting and mildly terrifying arms of General Ridley and Colonel Shaw. It’s good to see you, Sofia, and Miss… Perkins, isn’t it?” he looked to Ellie.

“Just Ellie is fine. I assume you’re this Haz I’ve heard about,”

“My reputation precedes me?... what is my reputation?” Haz asked, pulling up a chair.

“Well, I’ve heard that you’re loud, a great Minuteman, and that you’ve been seen chatting with Diamond City’s new singer,” Ellie said, giving him a knowing look and finishing off her noodles.

“None of this is wrong,” Haz admitted, grabbing some noodles for himself.

“Well, it’s my job to know things. Speaking of my job, this was supposed to be a quick lunch break, then I’ve got to get back to the Agency, so I’ll catch you guys later! Nice to see you,”

“You too, Ellie. Bye!” Sofia waved as Ellie walked away.

“I didn’t know you two were friends,” Haz remarked.

“I’m not sure if we’re friends yet, exactly. But I hope we will be. She’s nice,”

“Definitely. I’m glad you’re not finding it hard to make friends. Meet anybody else whilst I was gone?” Haz asked.

“Well, I gave Piper Wright an interview this morning. Does that count?”

“Damn, an interview with the Publick? That’s great!”

“Yeah, I… guess so.” Sofia didn’t really share his enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you think it went well?” All at once, his face went from beaming grin to concerned look.

“No, no, it went fine, I think. There were just some things she brought up that I… didn’t much feel like talking about.” _And I’m realising that what I said about the Minutemen probably sounded really negative, and now she’ll print it and you’ll read it..._

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Haz said, patting her shoulder. She gave him a puzzled smile.

“It’s not your fault,”

“Still… oh, hopefully this might cheer you up!” Haz smiled. Sofia tilted her head, questioning. “Me and Connie from the recruitment office got talking on the way back here and wondered… in a couple of days when we leave again and take new recruits down to the Castle, would you be able to - hell, would you WANT to - come down with us and do a few gigs for us? I’m sure we could pay, and it’ll mean you get a free escort over there,” Haz grinned. Sofia slurped down her noodles, eyes wide, and nodded.

“Wow, performing at the Castle? I had no idea I was so in demand. I’ll have to check with Vadim, though - I don’t want to go running off for ages when I’ve only been here about a month,” Sofia said. “But it sounds like a great opportunity!”

“Great! Thanks so much!” Haz grinned. “I’ll be in the Dugout tonight, you can count on that, so…”

“I’ll get back to you then. Are you… up for a few drinks afterwards, as well?” Sofia asked.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Haz replied, winking.

“Alright. Then it’s settled,” Sofia said, finishing off her noodles. “I’ll see you then,”


	3. Foxtrot - Debriefing

The steel door to the escape tunnel clunked shut behind Foxtrot as she entered HQ, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to be home. A patter of footsteps and like always, Drummer Boy was there to greet her, papers in hand.

“Hey, Foxtrot. Des and Carrington want a debriefing,”

“Oh my god, right now? I don’t even have anything that good,” Foxtrot complained. The informants in Diamond City and across the Commonwealth had turned up nothing new, and even the latest issue of Publick Occurrences didn’t contain much of interest to the Railroad.

“Well, that’s what they said. Come on. We got some noodles and hot coffee, anyway,”

“DB, I could kiss you,” Foxtrot said, following him to the central part of the catacombs, where the Railroad’s leaders stood, Desdemona holding a cigarette as always, Carrington looking disapproving as always. Foxtrot picked up her coffee and took a sip, then ate a few noodles. She was starving.

“Foxtrot. What do you have for us from Diamond City?” Desdemona asked, leaning on the large stone platform they used as a table.

“I’ll write up the reports in full later, but in terms of the L&L and synths in danger? Nothing concrete. Bullets didn’t have anything new, and neither did Overseas, although he mentioned rumours of increased raider activity around Milton Hospital and the high school around there. Could be nothing, though.” Arturo the arms dealer and Vadim himself. Both valuable eyes and ears for the Railroad, especially in times like this - the loose ‘alliance’ of raiders calling themselves the L&L gang made a point of targeting synths and the Railroad.

“As long as the L&L are a threat, we need more information on them. Keep your ear to the ground. We might send out Deacon to do some more digging,” Des said, taking a drag of her cigarette. From a few feet away, Deacon’s voice rang out.

“Aw, are you guys talking about me? I’m flattered,”

“We’ll brief you, Deacon… _later,”_ Carrington shot back, before turning back to the table with a roll of his eyes. “What else can you tell us about the situation in Diamond City?” Foxtrot shrugged, sipping her coffee.

“Difficult to say. Losing McDonough was a blessing and a curse. We can be pretty much certain there’s no more Institute influence there, but anti-synth feeling is as high as ever - maybe even higher. Nothing’s changed. I wouldn’t use Overseas’ bunkhouse for a synth unless there really is no other option,”

“As ever… Thank you for the debrief. Was there anything else?” Desdemona looked from Foxtrot to Carrington.

“We’ve had a runner from Ticonderoga. They want a route cleared soon - they’re planning to move a synth to the Castle,” Carrington said, glancing at some notes. “This is D4-78, who you initially picked up on. It seems she wants to go to Acadia, and the Castle is the closest boat link. Ticonderoga are sending one of their own heavies, but they want someone to provide sniper cover. I thought you might be a good fit.” Foxtrot grinned - compliments from Carrington weren’t given freely.

“I’d be happy to, Doc. When’s the mission?” “Not for about a week. Apparently D4-78 was injured upon arriving at the safehouse and High Rise wants to make sure she’s fully recovered,”

“Smart. Okay. I’ll be ready. Oh! Another thing - I ran into Waywatcher whilst I was out there, and he _engaged_ me, whilst _with someone else_ , in the Dugout,”

“I always had my doubts about him, _and_ I voiced them,” Carrington said, sourly. “He’s a liability,”

“Nevertheless, having an informant who is not only in the Minutemen but _popular_ among the Minutemen is useful,” Desdemona said. “In any case, what did you think of the situation?” she looked to Foxtrot. “We should quarantine him for the time being, unless we have desperate need of information he might have. He’s hitting it off with the new singer in Diamond City, and whilst I don’t think he’d intentionally give us away…”

“We can’t trust his mouth not to run away with him? Yes, I’d thought as much,” Carrington muttered.

“Just keep him out of the loop for a while and we’ll see if we have need of him again,” Desdemona said. “Now, if there isn’t anything else…?” she looked around, to be met with shrugs - “By all means go about your business,”

“Yeah, I guess I’d better write up my actual reports,”

“Good luck,” Desdemona said with a smile, stubbing out her cigarette, then turned as Drummer Boy approached her again. Foxtrot drained her coffee mug with a smile, and wandered over to see Deacon, who was slouched in ‘his’ chair, reading.

“Hey, Deeks. What’s kicking?”

“Me. Kicking _back,_ that is,”

“Yeah, so I can see,”

“How was The Great Green Jewel, then?” Deacon put his book down and adjusted his ever-present sunglasses.

“Oh, you know. Great. Green. The whiskey in the Dugout is still the only decent thing they sell, Takahashi is our _best_ informant, and Piper is scraping the bottom of the barrel for articles right now. I got a few copies of the Publick for everyone, and is _this_ what she calls a headline?” Foxtrot dug the papers out of her bag, and gave one to Deacon.

“‘Brotherhood take out Super Mutant hive outside City’. Well, points for excitement, but I’ve gotta deduct a few there, since I’m not really sure that qualifies as ‘news’,” he said.

“Hey, the ‘Ask The Publick’ section is pretty entertaining, though. Someone asks her if we still exist and seeing her worm out of _that_ one is fun,”

“Hah! She’s got a hell of a way with words, that’s for sure. Did you get an update on how Nicky’s doing?” Deacon asked.

“Valentine? Still out of town on a case,”

“Aw, too bad,”

“Speaking of, is Charmer with him? Or is she at the Castle, or what?” Foxtrot asked, always curious about the exploits of the Commonwealth’s most prolific woman, known to the Railroad as ‘Charmer’.

“Yeah, she’s at the Castle. She’s gonna oversee the transfer of the synth from Ticon,”

“Cool. Well, I’ve got a bunch of reports to write up, so I’ll leave you to it. See you around,”

“Seeya, Foxtrot,”

 

Foxtrot passed a week without much incident: staying up late on watch, running a few messages, and writing reports. It was late morning when she prepared to hit the streets of what was once Boston for her mission.

“Remember, you need to stay high and out of danger. Your ballistic weave will take bullets, but not too many, and only up to a certain caliber,” Carrington warned as she checked her rifle.

“Yeah. There’s a few good vantage points, and the route hugs the coast. We’re avoiding the shitshow that’s city centre, so with any luck it’ll only be raiders at the Shamrock Taphouse we’ll need to deal with,” Foxtrot nodded. “According to our informants there’s no scheduled Brotherhood activity in the area, too, so we should be alright,”

“Doing a run in full view of the Prydwen is quite something, although no doubt not beyond your capabilities and those of the Ticonderoga agents. Good luck,” he said, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Foxtrot glowed. Receiving compliments from Carrington was always gratifying; you could be sure you were only getting one because he really felt you deserved it. It might take some time to get past the grumpy exterior, but Foxtrot had found that his respect, once earnt, was unwavering.

“Thanks, Doc,” she said.

“Oh, and take some supplies,” he added, holding out a bag. Foxtrot took it, and a look inside revealed a couple of Stimpacks, a bottle of water and some bread.

“Brilliant. I’ll see you when the job’s done.”

“Count on it,” were his parting words as she left, this time using the front entrance. The water in the catacombs splashed as she moved through. Ducking under the beam at the door to the Church and making her way out into the open, Foxtrot blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brightness. She felt for the reassuring presences of her pistol and sniper rifle - named Faithful and Lady, respectively - and set off. Thankfully, HQ wasn’t too far from the mission point, and she quickly found a tall building with an intact emergency staircase - if she wasn’t much mistaken there were some windows facing the Shamrock Taphouse’s raider den. Leaping from a trash bin, Foxtrot found she could pull the staircase down. It let out a screech of metal, but seemed sturdy, and she climbed up. Almost as an afterthought, she placed her oil lamp down on the platform and lit it. However, the door at the top was locked. Foxtrot swore under her breath and pulled out her lockpicks.

 _Click._ A moment later, the door swung open, and she moved through the building until she found a decent vantage point. Now all there was to do was watch for the arrival of the Ticonderoga heavy, and wait.


	4. Haz - For the Minutemen

It had been early when Haz and Connie - the other Minuteman at the recruitment office - woke up the new recruits. There were four in total, all showing some amount of promise. As they waited outside the front gate for Sofia, Haz surveyed them. Tessa was a tall, muscular woman with close cropped hair. She didn’t say much, but she carried her combat rifle with certainty, and Haz wondered if she had started as a caravan guard. Ryan, on the other hand, had been a farmer, and his tanned skin and well-muscled arms showed it - he’d signed up with Vic, a gregarious, open type who wouldn’t stop talking about Preston Garvey and the General. Then there was Rissie. Haz could tell an ex-Raider when he saw one, but as long as she really was _ex_ , then he had no problem with her.

“Hey, what’s taking your girlfriend so long?” Connie asked. Haz rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Yeeeeet,” Connie jibed, and jumped away with a giggle as he went to hit her with his hat.

“Look, I’m not saying I’d say no, _but,_ nothing is official. We’re friends, and I’m fine with that,” Haz said. He could only imagine the reactions of the other Minutemen when he showed up with Sofia by his side. Almost on cue, he heard the clunk of the inner door and looked up to see a figure emerging from stadium. It was Sofia. Haz felt his mouth fall open.

“What the hell is she carrying?” Haz heard Rissie whisper as Sofia walked down the steps.

“It’s a bow and arrows. I ain’t never seen one of them before, only heard of ‘em,” replied Vic.

“Sorry I’m a bit late,” Sofia said, walking up to them. She was dressed in jeans and a tight jacket now, and carried a backpack along with her bow and quiver. However, Haz was reassured to see she also had a pistol and a combat knife on her belt.

“That’s some weapon you’ve chosen,” he couldn’t help but remark.

“The bow chose me,” Sofia answered with an enigmatic smile. “I told you I could handle myself,”

“I didn’t doubt it,” Haz replied.

“Are we getting going then, lovebirds?” Connie asked, grinning at the looks on both of their faces. She shushed their mutual protests. “Come on, the General and the Quartermaster are expecting us at the Castle by one at the latest, and I do _not_ want to be responsible for disappointing Ronnie Shaw.”

“What about the General?” Haz laughed, but got moving. She had a point. You didn’t want to let down Shaw.

“Come on, let’s get going everyone - stay alert, it’s damn dangerous out here, ok?-” Connie shouted out to the recruits and they began to move out proper. “What were you saying? Oh, yeah, the General. You know I have the utmost respect for her, but she ain’t Ronnie Shaw, you know what I’m saying?”

“Absolutely,”

“... Who’s Ronnie Shaw?” Sofia asked. Haz exchanged a glance with Connie.

“Well, you’re going to find out, but be prepared. She’s a _legend,”_ he said.

“She’s _old school,”_ Connie agreed.

“She was with the Minutemen before the old General, Joe Becker, was killed. And you do _not_ mess with her,” Haz explained with a grin. “She’s great,”

“I’ll take your word on it…” Sofia replied, and unholstered her pistol as they left the patrolled zone around Diamond City. Haz cranked a few fusion cells into his laser musket. Time to travel.

 

Haz and Connie knew the safer ways from Diamond City to the Castle; whilst they could take longer, it was worth it to avoid the hellhole that was the city centre. They tracked through Boston and ended up on the coast, the smell of salt and the cries of seagulls hanging in the air. Here, you were less likely to be penned in by enemies perched in tall buildings. Mirelurks were a threat, but they could be avoided.

“Hey, that’s the Castle, right?” Ryan asked, pointing to the spit of land just visible through the haze.

“Sure is. We’re nearly there,” Connie replied. “Just don’t start getting - what was that?” everybody crouched as they heard gunshots.

“It’s coming from that direction,” Sofia pointed down the promenade.

“Shamrock Taphouse. Raiders must have dug themselves in there again. We don’t know what they’re firing at - someone might need our help. Stay close and stay low,” he said, and moved forward swiftly, cranking up his laser musket. Connie did the same, and Haz could see Sofia knocking an arrow. The report of a rifle sounded out from above them and Haz ducked.

“Sniper up top, don’t know if they’re on our side,” Connie called, and they got within view of the skirmish. There was a loud buzzing noise and suddenly the raider wearing Power Armour in the middle of the fight was knocked back by a small blue explosion.

“Holy shit! That’s a Gauss rifle!” Haz yelled, scanning for whoever had fired it. There! He caught a flash of movement in a window as they reloaded. The raider was still on his feet, although reeling from the shot, which had left a smouldering hole in the front of his chest piece. Haz cranked his laser musket up to the max, savouring the crackling _whum_ of power in the chamber. “FOR THE MINUTEMEN!” he yelled. The raiders all looked to him. A moment later, their leader was missing a head. Then all hell broke loose.

“YOU KILLED HIM!” screeched a nearby raider, running towards the group wielding - oh, really? - a tire iron. The group scattered, taking cover across the fortified open space around the entrance to the old pub. Haz blocked the raider’s first swing at him and then smacked her hard with the butt of his musket. She stumbled to the ground, and he moved his focus onto the next target. One appeared in an upper floor window across the street from him, but as soon as the raider stuck out his head, the report from the sniper’s rifle sounded again, and he fell back in a spray of blood.

“I’m gonna tear you apart!” came a gruff yell from behind him. Haz whipped around, cranking up his laser musket, but the large raider cocked what looked like an automatic rifle. Haz barely had time to leap behind cover, cutting his arm in the process, before the firing began. He took a pot shot at the raider through a gap in their hastily constructed fence, and he felt a burst of satisfaction as the raider swore in pain. “Son of a bitch! I’m gonna - _urgh!”_ Haz did a double take. The raider’s chest now sprouted a long, metallic shaft. He looked up to see Sofia lowering her bow. He gave her a thumbs up. From inside the Taphouse, the blue flash of the Gauss rifle flared through the broken windows, and then everything was quiet.

“WHO’S HERE?” Haz yelled, climbing out of his cover. “CALL OFF!”

“Connie!” the woman stepped out from behind some sandbags.

“Tessa.” Haz jumped as she appeared in the street behind him.

“Ryan!”

“Vic!” The two were together, Ryan helping Vic up.

“Rissie.” The woman was covered in blood. She saw their looks and shrugged. “Blood’s not mine. Mostly.”

“Sofia.” She sauntered out, putting her bow back over her head and pulling her arrow out of the raider with a wet _thuck._ “Who were they fighting? Are they still here?”

“ANYONE? WE’RE WITH THE MINUTEMEN, WE’RE HERE TO HELP!” Haz called out. He was met with silence.

“I hear footsteps,” Rissie said, suddenly, and took off running towards the building which Haz thought the sniper had been on. “Hey! You!”

“Rissie, they don’t have to - hello?” Haz skidded to a halt around the back of the building and came face to face with two people. A tall, blond man with an armoured coat and a scarf wound around his face, holding the Gauss rifle, and a shorter woman in a tatty parka, baseball cap and sunglasses.

“Thanks for your help. We’ll be on our way now,” she said, and the pair of them ran off down a side alley. Haz put a hand on Rissie’s shoulder as she went to give chase, and glanced behind at the others, who had wandered over.

“Pfft. So much for gratitude,” Rissie said.

“We don’t do this for thanks,” Connie replied. “Who were they, though?” “I… have no idea,” lied Haz. It was difficult to tell, but he was sure that the woman had been Foxtrot. The right stature, a sniper rifle, and not far off the right voice… and she was with somebody packing a Gauss rifle. Railroad tech.

“A Gauss rifle’s a wicked powerful bit of ordnance. Who the hell just wanders around with one?” Ryan said.

“They say at Bunker Hill that the Railroad used them,” Tessa said. It was the most Haz had heard her say in one go, and it practically confirmed his theory about her being a caravan guard. Connie owed him ten caps.

“The Railroad?” Sofia repeated, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Haz thought he heard some nervousness in her tone.

“Damn. I thought those guys were just a rumour, or at least, they were out of a job now the Institute’s gone,” Vic said.

“They’re super secretive. It probably wasn’t them, just a couple of scavvers who got real lucky with their loot,” Connie said. “Come on, we should concentrate on getting to the Castle. Anyone need field treatment or can injuries wait till we get there?” They spent a few minutes bandaging scrapes and cuts like the one Haz had on his arm, then the whole party got moving for the Castle again. They chattered amongst themselves and speculated about the Railroad. However, as they moved, Haz noticed Sofia didn’t join in. She kept quiet and closed-off for the rest of the journey.


	5. Sofia - Everybody Has a Story

_The blue flashes of lasers streaking through the dark sky. The smell of burning. Human screams and dull, robotic voices. Her heart pounding and her breath heaving as she ran-_

Sofia woke with a jolt, covered in cold sweat. For a moment she thought she could still hear the shots of laser pistols, before they faded in her ears. She was in the Castle. On a bed. In the guest room. It was dark. She was safe. These were the facts. They had arrived at about half past twelve, she’d settled in and performed that evening. Now, clicking her PipBoy into life, the number at the top of the screen told her the time was three fifteen. _Great. Not like I’m going to be able to get much more sleep now, anyway._ Standing up quietly, so as not to disturb the other couple of people in the room, she slipped on her shoes and jacket. Taking a walk seemed as good an idea as any. At least the Castle was safe and patrolled. Slipping out of the door, she went to flick on the PipBoy’s flashlight, then stopped. It was a cloudless night, the Milky Way just visible, and the stars cast a shine over everything. Sofia breathed a calm sigh, watching it crystallise in the crisp air. She strolled along the wall.

“Trouble sleeping?” Sofia jumped as she heard a voice behind her, then relaxed when she saw it was Haz, his face lit by the red glow of his laser musket.

“Something like that. What about you?” she asked. He shrugged.

“Night patrol. When it’s pissing it down nobody wants it, but it’s not so bad on nights like this.”

“It’s lovely,” Sofia agreed, and they stared out across the shimmering ocean for a moment in silence. A breeze passed by, and she shivered. Her coat was thin. Without saying anything, Haz shrugged off his Minuteman duster and put it around her shoulders. “Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” Haz said, smiling. “You know, the General says that before the war, you couldn’t see any stars here. Or only a few,”

“I can’t imagine that,” Sofia said. No stars? It would be like it was cloudy every night.

“Look, are you alright? Because, you know… wandering around at half three in the morning is a cause for concern,” Haz said. Sofia sighed, leaning on the railing.

“It was just a bad dream. I get them from time to time,”

“Do… you want to talk about it? Cause I can listen, if that’s what you want,” Haz said. Sofia pulled his coat tighter around her, and paused for a long while. She hadn’t spoken to many people about this. Somehow it felt like more than the year it had been, and yet less at the same time.

“Look, everybody in this wasteland has… a story, don’t they?” she began, slowly. Haz nodded.

“Of course. And we tell them when we are ready,”

“I mean, everybody has their tragedies. Nobody really goes through life without… loss,”

“No,” Haz said. Sofia took a deep breath. She didn’t know what exactly made her trust him, but in the Commonwealth, there wasn’t always time to waste thinking about that kind of thing.

“I told you I came from the outskirts of the Commonwealth, and that’s not… well. It’s complicated. When I was travelling through - this was a long time ago - I got very seriously injured in a fight with some raiders. I lost bits of my memory, so I can’t… remember that much, especially about wherever I was before, or why I left. Some kind caravaners took me with them, and I settled in a town not too far south of the Commonwealth,” she could feel her voice start to shake, and she swallowed hard. Haz laid a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s ok if you don’t want to carry on,”

“Thank you,” she said, taking him up on the offer, and leant into him as he put an arm around her. He was a comforting presence. They stayed that way in silence for a while, watching the waves on the sea.

“Want to talk about something else, then?” Haz said.

“Sure, what?” Sofia pulled back to look at him.

“Well… I’m curious as to why you use a bow.” Sofia allowed herself a tiny smile. It was still wrapped up in everything she hadn’t wanted to talk about, but it was a safe enough topic.

“A man in my old village knew how to use one. I don’t know where he learnt, he just said his mother had taught him. Something about it just always fascinated me,”

“Well, nearly everyone just uses guns. I’ve never even seen another bow and arrows before,” Haz said. “That’s what made it so interesting. Mostly, he used it to hunt for the village, so I didn’t see it in action for a while, but one day I saw him take down a radstag not too far from the fields. It was so quiet, and quick, and powerful - he put an arrow right through its skull before it even knew he was there. Maybe it sounds corny, but in that moment I just… knew. I wanted in on that,”

“No, I know what you mean. I guess it’s… kind of like the Minuteman who gave me her hat when I was a kid. They’d come to our town to help out, and I went to go see. I tripped up right in front of the crowd they were speaking to, scraped my knees, but she helped me up and made sure I was okay. I suppose that’s the moment I just really knew that these were the good guys, and that one day I wanted to be one of them,” Haz said, a soft smile on his face. “Sorry, I sort of cut you off there - so you learnt archery from this guy?”

“It’s fine, Haz, that’s an adorable story,” Sofia smiled, then nodded. “Yes, after some persuading, he taught me. We made my bow and arrows, and after that we trained every day.”

“That’s amazing. You shot really well back at the Taphouse.”

“Thanks. I haven’t had that much combat experience, but it’s hard to cross the Commonwealth without getting a little,” Sofia replied with a shrug.

“Too right. I was pretty green when I first showed up here, but even the journey had taught me things. As all journeys do,” Haz said. It seemed as if he was looking into the past, eyes not fully focused, and Sofia wondered if there was perhaps more to his history than he had initially told her.

“I think… I should try and get some more sleep,” she said eventually.

“That might be best,” Haz agreed with a soft smile.

“Thank you, though. For listening,” she said, shrugging off his coat and giving it back to him.

“Any time. Goodnight,”

“Night,”

 

“Hey, can I get a picture? We’ve got a board up in the mess hall with photos and letters and stuff on, it’d be cool to add you to it.” A Minuteman approached Sofia and Haz as they stood chatting, a couple of days later. Sofia had finished her set; it was a fine evening, the sun just setting, so she had performed outside.

“Oh - of course! Where would you like-”

“Just - if we can get you and Haz there, and - hey! General! Want to be in the picture?”

“Huh?” Sofia followed the Minuteman’s gaze and saw the General turn and look at them, taking off her sunglasses. She was a huge woman, towering over most she met. “Hell yeah I do!” she replied, heading over in a few easy strides. “You want me in the back like usual? Cool,” she stood behind Haz and Sofia. Sofia felt Haz put his arm around her shoulders, and grinned at him. The Minuteman taking the picture adjusted his sunglasses.

“Alright, make sure you’re in the light, smile - three, two, one -” there was a bright flash and they all relaxed. “Great! I’ll develop this beauty when I’ve got time!” The General turned to Sofia.

“Hey, this seems like a pretty good chance to introduce myself. Sorry I haven’t already, but y’know…”

“You’re a very busy woman. It’s fine. I’m Sofia,” Sofia said with a smile, looking up at the General. She grinned back and stuck out a huge hand. “Diana Ridley, Commonwealth Minutemen… and a few other things,”

“It’s amazing to meet you. I’ve heard a lot.” It was nigh impossible to find anybody who hadn’t, these days. Between reforming the Minutemen, retaking the Castle, blowing up the Institute and everything else, General Diana was something of a mythic figure. Yet here she was, down to earth.

“Good stuff, I hope,” she said. “How’re you finding the Castle? Haz been taking care of you?”

“Very well,” Sofia said.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve been trying. But not neglecting my other duties,” Haz said, snapping a salute. Diana laughed.

“Glad to hear it, but take it easy. It’s not a problem.” The General regarded the two of them, Haz still with his arm comfortingly around Sofia’s shoulders. “You two an item, then?”

“Oh - well - not exactly, but-” Sofia blushed, feeling herself getting flustered. Haz was making similar non-committal noises.

“Word of advice, if you’ll let me…” Diana leaned on the workbench she was next to, lighting a cigarette and blowing out some smoke. “Don’t worry about rushing stuff. You two make the most of what you have, whilst you have it,”

“... Understood, General,” Haz said. The General smiled, a little wistfully, and as she walked away Sofia noticed her pull what looked like a photograph out of her pocket.

“Does she… have someone in her life?” Sofia asked Haz once Diana was out of earshot, to distract from the uncomfortable questions left hanging in her wake. Haz looked down at her in surprise. “You didn’t know? She’s with Piper Wright, from the paper.”

“ _That’s_ Piper’s Minuteman?” Sofia was stunned.

“What do you mean?” Haz laughed at her surprise.

“When she was interviewing me, she said something about the Minutemen and she looked a bit dreamy, I wondered if she had a Minuteman of her own. I just wasn’t expecting… the General.”

“I don’t think you could describe either of them as ‘predictable’.”

“Very true. I wonder if it’s hard to keep up a relationship at a distance like that.”

“I shouldn’t think it’s too difficult. I know the General spends a lot of time wandering around the Commonwealth with Piper, so they’re not apart a huge amount.”

“So who’s in charge here when she’s gone?” Sofia asked.

“Colonel Shaw,” Haz said, in a voice which made it seem obvious - which it was. Sofia had discussed the matter of lodging and payment with the Quartermaster, and had found her as effective as she was brisk. This didn’t surprise Sofia; to make it to her kind of age in the Wasteland you had to be tough as nails.

“Oh, of course.” As they wandered up the steps and onto the walls. Something nudged her hand, and she realised Haz was reaching for it. Without saying anything, she entwined her fingers with his, and they walked for a while. Eventually, Haz spoke up again.

“Have you… slept alright lately, then?”

“It hasn’t been too bad, yeah,” Sofia replied, biting her lip.

“Good to hear,” Haz paused. “What did you think of the General, then?”

“She’s… not quite what I expected,”

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, a bit more... “ Sofia searched for words. “Rugged? War torn? Serious? I mean, the things she’s been through…”

“She’s had it pretty rough. I’ve heard stories of people who say they met her when she was fresh out of the Vault, said there was something funny about her, that she bought tons of chems off them or took merc jobs. I have no idea if they’re true. I think only the people closest to her really know how she dealt with the situation,”

“Well, I can relate to that…” Sofia muttered, without really meaning to. Haz noticed, and tilted his head, face concerned. She sighed. “I got halfway to it the other night. I suppose I might as well just tell you…”

“Don’t tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m not going to put pressure on you,”

“No, you should know. That town… I lived in that town for five years. It was my home. And… it was attacked. By the Institute.” She glanced across at Haz, saw the horror in his eyes and the sincere concern written all over his face. _That’s why I trust him. He really cares about people. Everyone he meets._ “I had to run. I don’t… I don’t even know who survived. I found my PipBoy the day after, chanced on it in the ruins I ran to. It’s why I don’t really like talking about where I got it, even though it was the luckiest find I’ve ever had,”

Haz was silent for a long time, head down and eyes shut as if thinking.

“I know nothing I can say will ease your pain,” he said eventually. “But stories like yours are why we stormed the Institute. And the fact that you can still find it in you to bring joy to others - to sing - is a testament to your strength,” Sofia smiled wryly, scrubbing at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. “Thank you. And I… this is why I’m not…”

“This is why you were so uneasy when we were talking about synths, and the Railroad,” Haz filled in. Sofia nodded.

“I know the Minutemen help synths, and say they’re people of the Commonwealth like the rest, but you have to understand I’m not a - I mean, I’m just scared. They were made as tools for the Institute, and they destroyed my home. And the Railroad… helping synths instead of people whose lives have been torn apart by them? It just feels like... an insult,” her own honesty scared her a little, but the combination of the quiet evening air and the drink she’d had earlier brought it out in her.

“I… understand. Your feelings are mirrored in many across the Commonwealth. In time, as the last vestiges of the Institute’s influence are destroyed, I hope we can put your fears - and those of everyone in the Commonwealth - to rest,” Haz said, and they stood watching the faint ripples in the ocean for a while. Sofia could feel his stiffness; it was subtle, but there.

“You think I’m a bigot like all the rest,” she said.

“What?! No!” Haz said, turning to her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Listen, I may... disagree with you on the matter of synths, but I can at least understand why you feel the way you do. I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through that night. I thought you didn’t live in the Commonwealth?”

“I didn’t, but it wasn’t that far away. Not far enough, apparently.”

“God, I’m sorry.” Sofia let Haz take her into his arms.

_At least now, I’m safe._


	6. Foxtrot - Disappearances and Reappearances

Foxtrot ate a bowl of noodles, and worried. The atmosphere in HQ was tense and prickly, even more so than usual. The standard cloud of nerves which hung over the Railroad, comprised of lack of sleep, paranoia and caffeine, had descended and clung to the residents of the catacombs like smog. Or maybe that was the smoke from Desdemona’s cigarettes she was thinking of. It was hard to tell. But Carrington was even more brusque than usual, Drummer Boy more jumpy, and Glory more sarcastic.

The run from Ticonderoga hadn’t gone as planned. Charmer had sent a runner from the Castle saying that the agent and synth had never arrived there, and there was no news. For the past few days, Foxtrot had been running around the Commonwealth, calling in informants, posting and collecting dead drops, and compiling reports, but she had nothing.

“Any more progress with the D4-78 disappearance?” Foxtrot jumped as Desdemona appeared behind her desk. She swallowed her mouthful of noodles, shaking her head solemnly.

“I’ve got nothing. None of our informants in the Brotherhood report any activity there that day, nobody in Bunker Hill knows anything, I called in all the local tourists, and we’re waiting on a report from the Castle. But… it’s like they just vanished.”

“You didn’t see anything suspicious when clearing the route?” Desdemona asked, rubbing her temple. It was times like this when Foxtrot really sympathised with her boss. Feeling like the weight of every operation fell on her shoulders couldn’t be easy.

“Nothing. It was just a bunch of raiders, which we cleared out with the help of some Minutemen who passed through. One of them was Waywatcher.”

“You don’t think he compromised us somehow? I know I defended him before, but it’s a possibility.”

“I don’t think so,” Foxtrot shook her head. “Waywatcher isn’t a traitor. He’d never give us up deliberately, and anyway, he was heading to the Castle with a bunch of recruits. He would have been there the whole time. I don’t see how he could’ve betrayed us, unless this goes a lot deeper than we want to think about.”

“Let’s avoid accusing the Minutemen of having moles in their ranks for now,” Desdemona said.

“Of course. You really think I’d say that to Charmer unless I had some serious evidence? I’m not crazy,” Foxtrot said, and was gratified to see Desdemona smile. “Anyway, I don’t think raiders really go in for espionage.”

“No, I think you’re right,” Desdemona replied.

“I’ve just… got nothing. I’m sorry,” Foxtrot said, biting her lip. She hated letting Des down. However, the alpha just smiled and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

“It’s alright. You can’t work if you’re doing nothing but beating yourself up. Whatever _has_ happened, it’s far from your fault, so all we can do is find out what it was and take the fight there.”

“Thanks, Des, I just… what if I missed something clearing the route? What if there’s something I should’ve seen, didn’t pick up on, and now we’re going to find Avalon and D4-78 dead in some raider camp somewhere because of me?”

“Foxtrot. Even if that happens, it _won’t_ be your fault,” Des’ voice hardened. “We can’t afford to start thinking like that. All we can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other, like we always have.”

“I…”

“Trust me on this one,” Des said, and Foxtrot sighed.

“Yeah. You’re right, I know you are. I guess I’m just frustrated. I know it’s stupid of me because there’s a bunch more people working on this, I just feel like I have to solve it myself.”

“Cut yourself a bit of slack. We at least need the information from the Castle.” Des replied, and they heard the door to the tunnel slam shut. Drummer Boy got up to greet the newcomer and sure enough, whisking off a militia hat, Deacon strode through the crumbling doorway. “Speak of the devil,” Desdemona muttered, sharing a small smirk with Foxtrot. “Deacon! Debrief us on the situation at the Castle. Carrington,” she beckoned the doctor over to the central table as well, and leant on it.

“Well, do you want the bad news or the good news first?” Deacon said.

“Get on with it,” Carrington snapped, and Deacon put his hands up in a placatory gesture.

“Alright, okay, bad news first. I’m pretty sure the Minutemen don’t know anything about the disappearance of D4-78 and Avalon. Charmer said the only people they’d had through there recently was the recruitment party that Foxtrot ran into, and nobody else reported anything out of the ordinary. Just the raiders, muties, ghouls and Gunners you always get around there.” Desdemona let out a long sigh and scribbled something down on the map.

“Okay, what’s the good news?”

“Good news?” Deacon, as far as Foxtrot could tell beneath the sunglasses, looked blank. “You said you had good news?” Carrington said, in a voice which promised hell if there wasn’t.

“Oh! I _may_ have exaggerated that a bit. Yeah, this isn’t so much ‘good news’ as ‘weird slash bad news.’” Deacon said, scratching the back of his head. He reached into his jacket. “I took this picture whilst I was at the Castle,” he said, pushing it into the centre of the table.

“Hey, that’s Waywatcher, Charmer, and the singer from Diamond City. Sofia,” Foxtrot said, recognising them instantly.

“Yeah. Funnily enough, it’s not Waywatcher or Charmer I’m gonna draw your attention to,”

“What’s significant about the singer?” Desdemona said, frowning.

“Right, judging by the face and the voice - and if my memory is working fine -”

“Stop beating around the bush,” Carrington cut in.

“I’m getting there, doc - now, I _promise_ I’m not making this shit up - if I’m not super mistaken, then that singer is a synth that we ran out of the Commonwealth about six years ago,”

 

There was a long silence.

“ _What?”_ Foxtrot was the first to break it. “No way. That’s insane,”

“Trust me, I know I pull a lot of bullshit, but I’m not messing around on this one,” Deacon said, in a moment of uncharacteristic sincerity.

“Are you sure?” Carrington said. There was no more impatience on his face, just business.

“As sure as I can be. I ran that job.”

“This would’ve been… what, ‘82? We were still operating out of Bolthole then. It wasn’t a good year,” Desdemona said, and for a moment she looked somehow a lot older than she was.

“Two synths out. I remember,” Carrington said. Foxtrot looked down at the table. She was a pretty seasoned agent, with a couple of years under her belt, but she felt _green_ next to these three. They had been around for over ten years, Deacon a lot more than that if he was to be believed (maybe not, then.) The Railroad didn’t have a pretty past, and Foxtrot was sharply aware she was looking at the survivors of it. Carrington reached forwards and picked up the photograph, frowning. “My God. I do remember her. That was an operation I hope not to repeat,” he said quietly. Foxtrot looked at Deacon, blank.

“I found her being attacked by a bunch of raiders. I don’t know what she said, whether she slipped up or what, but they knew she was a synth. I managed to take a couple of them out, and then the rest ran, but she was hit up pretty bad. I had to run her back to HQ,”

“A dangerous decision, but there wasn’t any other way. I remember this now,” Desdemona said.

“Yes. She’d taken a bullet in the back of the head, among other injuries. Thankfully, it was only from a pipe pistol, not very powerful at all, and not injuring anything vital, but I believe it left her with some amnesia,” Carrington said.

“Yeah, it made it easier to explain the gaps left by the memory wipe. We did the usual, explained the risks and stuff, she agreed… and we took her out of the Commonwealth pretending to be caravaners helping out an injured amnesiac,” Deacon said.

“And you’re all sure this is her? Sofia?” Foxtrot said. “Why is she back in the Commonwealth?”

“I can’t imagine why she would be back here,” Desdemona said with a shrug. Foxtrot cursed internally. She understood why they didn’t keep tabs on synths they aided, it was far too dangerous to have records and check-ins on synths that were supposed to be living lives as normal humans, but it would’ve made this job easier by far.

“I can look into it,” Deacon said.

“Maybe I’m being dumb here, but… does it matter? I mean, the Institute’s gone and she doesn’t know she’s a synth. Can’t we just leave her be?” Foxtrot said. “Staking her out or trying to intervene seems like an unnecessary risk.”

“That’s a fair point,” Carrington said.

“True, but as unlikely as it may be, those raiders that were harassing her may still be around, or even with the L&L, and who knows what interactions she had in the Commonwealth before that? It’s a long shot, but she could still be recognised,” Desdemona said.

“And those Institute chrome domes left wandering around in the field could pose a problem,” Deacon said. Foxtrot nodded; the clearing of remaining Gen 1 and 2 synth presence in the Commonwealth was one of her priorities in intel.

“So the question is: is she safer knowing she’s a synth, or not?” Foxtrot said.

“Who else knows about this?” Carrington asked, looking to Deacon.

“I told Charmer,”

“What? Without consulting us?” Carrington snapped. “If nothing’s going to come of it, she didn’t need to know - this is serious!”

“Figured she _should_ know, given that Sofia’s in the Castle right now and one of her men is making heart-eyes at her.” Deacon replied.

“Waywatcher,” Foxtrot said.

“Look - I vote we leave it for now,” Carrington said. “She’s safe and secure with the Minutemen, and Charmer... knows what she’s doing. There’s no need to waste resources on someone who’s not in danger, or make this more complicated than it needs to be.” He shot a glare at Deacon.

“True. However, since Waywatcher is… close with her, I wonder if we should tell him. He could prove an extra safeguard should anything happen,” Desdemona said.

“I don’t think that would be a very good idea," Foxtrot bit her lip. "Waywatcher’s not made for long-term lying about that kind of thing, I reckon he’d tell her almost straight away.” 

“Really, I think we should let Charmer handle it. She’s got experience with situations like this, she’ll make the right call,” Deacon chipped in. Foxtrot had heard the rumours, something to do with the Brotherhood of Steel, but she didn’t know the facts.

“Anyway, our main priority should be finding Avalon and D4-78, shouldn’t it?” Foxtrot said.

“Exactly. I think that you and a tourist assigned by Charmer should investigate,” Carrington agreed. “Retracing their steps may be risky, but could yield clues we haven’t uncovered from local reports.”

“Very well. Foxtrot, you should get some sleep. Head to the Castle in the evening and speak with Charmer. Tell her what we’ve discussed here and say that HQ needs her to assign you a tourist to help with this job. You could also have a word with her about the Sofia situation,” Desdemona said. Foxtrot nodded.

“What should I say? Just tell her to stay quiet unless we think Sofia will be in danger?”

“Tell her to keep an eye out, but be discreet for now. We can always back that up by keeping tabs on her ourselves,” Des replied. “It’s a difficult situation,”

“Quite. It’s hard to know if she would be safer knowing she has to defend herself, or unaware and therefore with nothing to hide,” Carrington said.

“We do memory wipes for the latter reason, but I get that this is kind of a different story,” Deacon said. “I just think Charmer can handle it. I mean, judging by the precedent, Sofia might find out anyway…”

“Perhaps, but for now, we have other priorities,” Des reminded them.

“Understood. I’ll get to it, Des,” with a nod to Deacon and Carrington, Foxtrot headed to the mattresses by the escape tunnel, smiling to see Glory crashed out on one already. Broken sleep cycles, all part and parcel of the Railroad life. She picked out the mattress in the corner, pulled the sleeping bag over her, and tuned out the quiet bustle of HQ.


	7. Haz - A Job To Do

“She’s a _synth?_ ” Haz hissed, trying to keep his voice down. It was too early in the morning for this.

“Ssh, not so _loud_ ,” the General said. “I don’t even know if this is the best call, and I’m sorry if it messes shit up, but yeah. The folks down at HQ remember her. There’s a chance she’s still in danger in the Commonwealth, so I guess I just thought you should know.”

“Why would she still be in danger?” Haz said, immediately tense. 

“Don’t worry, it’s not immediate. But she nearly got lynched by a bunch of raiders, and not all those raiders got killed when one of our agents pulled her out. Even without that, there’s still bastards out there who like hunting synths.”

“How can I help?”

“You can keep a sharp eye out when you’re together. It’s… a fucking tough call whether or not to tell her. She might be safer not knowing, but then again maybe not. I have no idea. I think we should find the right moment, when she’s surrounded by people she trusts.”

“I’ll keep her safe. Are… are you sure, though?”

“Folks back at HQ seem pretty certain. One of them saved her from raiders and one of them saved her from bleeding out or dying from a bullet to the head, so you’d think that would make an impression. Nobody has a clue why she’s back.”

“... The town she lived in was destroyed,” Haz said. “By the Institute.”

“Oh my God.” Diana put her head in her hands. “This is an even bigger mess than I thought. So she hates synths, is that the deal?”

“She doesn’t _hate_ them. She’s… scared of them,” Haz said.

“Look, I really wouldn’t tell her about this conversation until we’ve figured out some way of breaking it well, okay? Maybe if we can work her up to it, get her feeling more comfortable around synths, then break the news, otherwise…” the General trailed off, apparently deep in thought.

“I’ll.. try my best, General,” Haz replied, feeling a pit open up in his stomach. He hated keeping things from people, hated keeping things from _her._ But this could break her if she knew. He didn’t want to be responsible for that. And yet...

“Thanks,” the General said, and waved a hand. “Take care, ok?”

Uncertainty swirling inside him, Haz got up and left.

 

“Hey there.” Haz looked around from his guard post as Sofia approached, and felt his stomach lurch.

“Oh, uh - hey.”

“You alright?” Sofia asked, a small frown appearing on her face.

“No, yeah, I’m fine, uh, how about you?” he replied. His heart was beating quicker, and he could feel the falter in his smile.

“I’m… okay. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah! Nothing to worry about, just… one too many night shifts, you know?”  _Great, you're already messing this up, and it's only day one._

“You need to make sure you’re not wearing yourself out.” Sofia’s face was concerned. “I hope they’re not working you too hard.”

“No, no, I signed up for it all, didn’t I? Anyway, uh… you looking forward to heading back to Diamond City?”

“Well…” Sofia looked obviously disconcerted by the sudden change in subject, and Haz cursed himself. Normally their conversations were so effortless, after so many evenings in the Dugout and on the Castle walls, and now that he knew Sofia’s history. However, this time was different. It all felt… artificial. He was hiding something _enormous_ from her, something which would break her if she found out, and he could feel his face heating up as the stress mounted.

“Oh, you’re not?” he said, trying to shake himself from his thoughts.

“I’ve enjoyed being here. The sea is nice, and your library is amazing,” Sofia said. “But I guess I’m pretty settled at the Dugout now. Look, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine!”

“Okay, I’m sorry to bug you, you just… really don’t seem yourself.”

“Just a bit tired. I’ll get an early night. I… should go and patrol a bit. You head back on in. See you tonight,” Haz said. Sofia nodded slowly, but the concerned frown was still on her face as she walked away. Haz swore under his breath.  _You could’ve handled that a lot better. You need to keep this up until she’s okay with synths, remember? And who knows how long_ that _will take?_

 

Haz sat in the mess hall that evening, drinking a beer and listening to Sofia sing. She wasn’t easy to avoid, although more because of the guilt that plagued him than anything to do with physical proximity. She didn’t understand what was going on, and he couldn’t tell her.

He was roused from his thoughts when a newbie he vaguely recognised tapped him on the shoulder.

“General’s asking for you. In her quarters,” she said. Haz nodded and drained his bottle, albeit with a confused frown. What would the General want him for _now_? As he got up to leave, he saw Sofia’s face fall a little. He mouthed ‘ _sorry!’_ across at her and hoped she understood, before heading out and to the General’s office and quarters. There was a murmur of voices inside, which went quiet as he knocked.

“Come on in,” came the General’s voice. The first thing he saw was Diana, sitting at her desk looking tired. The second was the figure standing behind the desk, dressed in leathers, with a rifle slung over her shoulder.

“Foxtrot?!”

“Take a seat, lieutenant.” The General  gestured to one of the chairs opposite her.

“What’s going on?” Haz said.

“I can see you’ve already met Foxtrot. Listen, the Railroad were gonna have you in quarantine for a while, but we need your help. A synth and an agent have gone missing, and their route went through the point you had your skirmish a few days ago. Do you know anything about what might’ve happened to them?”

“If you remember anything at all, it’s extremely important that you tell us,” Foxtrot said, her dark eyes boring into his skull. Haz rubbed his forehead.

“Only weird thing I remember seeing was, well, you, and whoever you were with. We took out a lot of raiders, and it was pretty chaotic, so I didn’t notice anything else.”

“Well, in any case, HQ have sent me Foxtrot here, and told me to pick out a skilled tourist to help her scout the area,” the General said, cracking her knuckles and leaning back in her chair.

“The idea is to go out at night, to reduce the chance of detection, and scour the route for any possible clues as to what happened to the agent and package. The longer they stay missing, the less likely it is we find them again, and I’m _not_ letting that happen. It’s risky, but it might be our only shot,” Foxtrot said. Haz nodded. It made sense why they had met at the Shamrock Taphouse that day now. She was supposed to have been clearing the route.

“I’ll get my gun and we can head out,” he said.

“Take some armour, too,” the General advised. “Report back to me afterwards, I’m sort of handling this thing now, along with the whole Sofia fiasco.”

“You know about that?” Haz looked at Foxtrot, who hesitated before nodding.

“Wait, _you_ know about that?” she looked to the General, outraged.

“Look, who knows what the right call is in a situation like this? I got a runner telling me I was in charge of that, so -”

“What I want to know is why didn’t anybody pick up on it before? Aren’t you supposed to be an _intel_ organisation?” Haz said.

“That’s outside your area, Waywatcher, and it isn’t the job we’re focusing on right now.,” Foxtrot replied. Haz fumed.

“That’s insane! ‘Outside my area’? I can’t just forget about her, she’s-”

“Lieutenant,” the General cut in, warning in her voice. “We’re going to handle that later. Now, focus on what you’ve gotta do now. Both of you.”

“Will do. Go and get prepped,” Foxtrot said, looking to Haz. “I’ll meet you outside the gate.”

 

Haz walked out of the armoury, just finishing the buckles on his arm guard, and saw Sofia leaning against the wall, still in her performance dress.

“Okay, where are you going? What’s the armour for?”

“Look, I’ve just… been sent out on a patrol, alright? I promise I’ll be back soon. I’ll be around in the morning. We can… have breakfast together,” Haz said, forcing a smile. Sofia’s face creased with concern and suspicion in equal parts.

“Haz, will you please just tell me what is going _on?_ ” she said. “You’ve been acting weird all day.” Haz started walking towards the gate, checking his musket as he went. 

“Look, it’s just patrol. Try and get some sleep, and I’ll be there in the morning.”

“No, there’s something you’re not telling me. What is it? Don’t you trust me?” Sofia said, and Haz felt something in his heart crack.

“I do trust you. I promise I trust you.” He paused with one hand on the gates, ready to open them.

“Then please, _tell_ me. I want to help, whatever it is,” Sofia said in a whisper, eyes starting to shine with tears. “I’m worried about you. Remember what the General said? Make the most of what you’ve got whilst you have it? I’m sorry if I told you things you didn’t want to hear, or if I went too fast, if I’ve messed this up somehow-”

“No, no, look, it’s - it’s not you. I promise it’s not you,” Haz said, taking her hand gently. “I’ll tell you about it when I can.”

“But _what if you can’t?_ The Commonwealth is _dangerous,_ Haz, and you might not get the chance!” Sofia hissed, scrubbing away a tear with the back of her hand.

“I…” Haz looked at her face, feeling his loyalties tearing him apart. He wanted to protect the Railroad, help the missing people, stay true to the General. He wanted to protect her from the truth about what she was. But _god_ he just wanted this to end, this uncertainty, the lies and secrets. He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’ll meet you tomorrow morning, up on the walls. Good- goodnight.” Slowly, Sofia pulled her hand away from his, letting it fall by her side. The expression of worry on her face was almost more than he could bear.

“Fine. Goodnight,” she said, and turned to leave. Haz felt the words forming a hard lump in his throat, the words he hadn’t managed to say.

 _You have a job to do,_ a very different part of him reminded. He swallowed hard, and turned the handle to the gate, pushing it open and slipping out into the night. He just hoped this was worth it.

 

Haz nearly jumped out of his skin when Foxtrot slid off the back of one of the huge copper lions that flanked the Castle’s gates.

“Hey. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be,” Haz said in a low, tight voice. He was grateful when she didn’t ask any more questions, but simply headed onwards, taking out her silenced pistol. She moved down the promenade. “What are we looking for?” Haz said as she beckoned him into a building.

“Anything out of place, or suspicious. Signs of recent raider activity in places we didn’t see them the other day might be a clue. There’s an ‘alliance’ of raiders out to hunt synths and Railroad agents,” she spat, moving forwards and ducking under a beam. “If they’re involved, we need to move fast.”

“This place is clean. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here for a while,” Haz said, finishing looking around his corner. They headed out into the street again. “Raiders are hunting synths?”

“Synths and agents. Just when we thought we’d caught a break…” Foxtrot muttered, almost to herself.

“I thought the Railroad’s job was easier now,” Haz said, scanning the windows of the buildings.

“Easier? We don’t have the Institute to worry about, except the vestiges left lying around in the Commonwealth - areas still full of Gen 1s and 2s - and then there’s the huge numbers of synths, sometimes relayed to dangerous places, which still need our help… between that and the fucking _Brotherhood,_ I sometimes wonder if we really are better off,” Foxtrot said in a rapid whisper, moving through another shop front. “This place has nothing. We need to keep looking.”

“Whoa, whoa, I can hear footsteps,” Haz whispered, voice as low as possible. Foxtrot froze, and cocked her head. Haz listened hard. Several pairs of boots, crunching on debris and bricks. Low voices.

“That’s quite a few people,” Foxtrot said. “We should avoid them, maybe try the roof,”

“Doesn’t sound like more than five or six,” Haz said. “We can take them,” he grinned, giving his laser musket a couple of cranks. Foxtrot glared at him.

“... Hey, did you guys hear something?” They heard a voice say.

“Now you’ve done it. Stay low, let’s get _out_ of here,” Foxtrot hissed. The footsteps sounded like they were approaching them. “We can’t take them!”

“If they’re raiders, they’re going _down,”_ Haz said, remembering why he joined up with the Minutemen. Raiders deserved everything they had coming to them, and more.

“Who’s there?” asked a deep voice, just outside the house they were in. Foxtrot started backing up towards one door, then the strangers arrived around the front. Raiders.

“The Minutemen, you bastards!” Haz cried, leaping out and firing his shot at the closest raider. It hit him on his dented metal chestplate, knocking him back.

“YOU IDIOT!” Foxtrot yelled as the raiders broke in.

“GET THEM! CIRCLE ROUND! DON’T LET THEM GET AWAY!” the leader shouted. One raider vaulted through a window frame, and two arrived at the door facing Haz. He levelled his laser musket at them with a grin. A baseball bat and a pipe rifle. Really? This was going to be easy-

“AGH! WAYWATCH-” he heard the cry from Foxtrot behind him, and whipped around. Three raiders had blocked the back doorway, and she must have run right into them. She cried out and spat blood onto the floor as one of them struck her across the face. One held her right hand, twisting the wrist until she dropped her pistol. Another wrested her rifle away.

“Drop the gun, mate,” came a deep voice from behind him. The raider holding the pipe rifle levelled it at him. Haz looked at the man, dressed in ragged leathers and junk armour, face smeared with greasy warpaint, and felt hatred surge up in him.

“YOU BASTA- UGH!” he didn’t get two steps towards him before he felt a blazing pain in his lower leg, and crumpled to the ground. The raider with the baseball bat, a very pale, skinny woman, kicked his laser musket away.

The leader hauled him up, pointing the rifle at his head, and nodded to the three holding Foxtrot.

“Yeah, these are the ones. They were there at the Taphouse. They’re not the bastard who had the Gauss Rifle, but I’d bet they’re close enough. Railroad can’t keep their filthy mitts off this area, huh?” he said, twisting Haz’s face to look at him. Haz spat, and the raider let go. “Of course. Fucking Minutemen. Synth-fuckers, the lot of them. They’ll do.” Behind him, Haz heard a thud and Foxtrot cry out in pain. Then he saw the skinny raider’s baseball bat heading towards him, and everything went black.


	8. Sofia - Something Wrong

Sofia awoke slowly in the morning, then the events of the previous day hit her like a charging radstag. Haz leaving on some mysterious mission, and their argument - had it been an argument? It was difficult to know. Even thinking about it brought a bitter taste to her mouth, less because Haz had been secretive and more due to her own guilt. _I must have come across so pushy, asking all those questions like that._

_I just can’t stand the thought of that conversation being our last._

She climbed out of her bed and threw on her jacket. _He said he’d meet me on the walls._ Grabbing a piece of mutfruit she’d stowed in her bag, she headed outside. Although it was still fairly early - not quite eight, according to her PipBoy - the Castle was already bustling and full of activity. George, the radio man, was sat in his hut broadcasting, and she saw the new recruits she’d travelled with leaving the mess hall. She walked up the steps to the walls, and scanned them for any sign of Haz. There were a few Minutemen patrolling and manning the impressive artillery which sat at each corner of the Castle, but she couldn’t see Haz.

“Excuse me-” Sofia stopped a guard.

“Yes, miss?” the dark-skinned woman adjusted her hat.

“Have you seen Haz anywhere?”

“Haz? Lieutenant? Hm. Can’t say I have, not since he was drinking in the mess hall yesterday evening.”

“Okay. Thank you…” Sofia tried to push aside the worry which rose up in her like bile, and moved on.

 

No matter who she asked, she couldn’t find Haz anywhere. One man she asked said he hadn’t slept in his bed in the barracks at all, and then Sofia started to panic. She ran to the General’s quarters, but found them empty. After bothering yet another Minuteman, she was directed to the armoury, and skidded in to see Diana tinkering with some kind of huge gun, Colonel Shaw looking on critically.

“I think you need to adjust the- can we help?” Shaw glanced up, and Diana put down her tools.

“Where’s Haz?” Sofia said, marching in. Diana froze up, a moment of surprise breaking through her cool facade. Then she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Look, I’m still waiting on him to get back and debrief me. I told him to be back by morning, so I’ll give him a little longer.”

“It’s half past eight! He left _hours_ ago! What kind of a mission was he even on?”

“Uh, right, I _really_ don’t have time to go into detail right now, but he was looking for some missing people down the promenade.”

“Missing people? What kind? Why would he be out so long, why was he acting so… strange before he left? What don’t I know here?” Sofia demanded.

“Listen, kid, there’s a lot going on that you don’t know about, and that’s because it’s not your job to know about it,” Colonel Shaw said. “The General here knows what she’s talking about - you think I’d be here if I didn’t think that? - so if she says it’s fine, it’s probably fine.”

“Yeah. This might seem like a weird job, but the Minutemen deal with kidnappings and missing people all the time, and investigation can be a bitch. Hell, to back Haz up, I’ve got the help of someone whose freakin’ _speciality_ is finding people, he’s on his way here at the moment.”

“I just don’t… he was alone when he left. Why would you send someone out alone?” Sofia said, clenching her fists. She didn’t want these two talking down to her when Haz could be in danger. No matter what they said, it just didn’t feel right.

“He, uh… wasn’t alone.” There it was again! That slight flash of uncertainty in the General’s demeanor, nearly imperceptible. “He met up with a checkpoint team a bit further out, that’s all.”

“Haz is a solid lieutenant. He’ll be fine,” Shaw said.

“... Fine,” Sofia said, turning around. Clearly they weren’t going to tell her anything else, although she was certain they were lying about _something._

 _I can’t believe this. He said he’d meet me. He_ promised _he’d meet me, and no matter how weird he was being I don’t think he’d intentionally break a promise. Something is wrong._

 

Fifteen minutes later she was ready. Bow and quiver - check. Knife - sharpened and ready. Pistol - locked and loaded. If nobody else was going to try and find him, _she would._

After a few moments of consideration, she left her PipBoy in the footlocker by her guest bed. She wasn’t intending for anything to happen, but she wasn’t risking getting it nicked by raiders or scavvers, either. To avoid the gaze of the Minutemen on the main gate, she slipped out of the small back entrance and edged around the base of the walls, then headed north along the promenade. _The way we travelled. Near where we met those people who they thought were the Railroad._ Something about the thought made her uneasy. She couldn’t help but feel like it was connected to the disappearance of Haz and… whoever he had been looking for. _What was so mysterious about missing people that he couldn’t tell me about it?_

Unless it was connected to the Railroad somehow. Was _he_ connected to the Railroad somehow? Sofia bit her lip hard as she scouted along the promenade, ducking in and out of the ruined houses and shops. That would be awful, the thought that he’d been lying to her this whole time, or using her as a source of information, or spying or _whatever_ it was that the Railroad did in their shadowy organisation-

-She nearly walked right over it.

Blood.

Kneeling down, she touched it gently. Dried, but not old, and just a few drips. Nevertheless, she felt her heart quicken in her chest. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was relevant. Significant. _Haz’s?_ A shiver ran down her spine.

She heard footsteps around the building, and stood up in a blur of motion, pressing herself against the wall.

“We know you’re in there,” a deep voice said, and she saw raiders appear at each door. She gripped her pistol tight, but they had guns too. She couldn’t take them all on.

“This one of ‘em?” one said, looking to the tall, brawny man who Sofia assumed to be the leader, face streaked with warpaint. He squinted, then nodded.

“Yeah. She was there. Five’s a nice number, don’tcha think?”

“Sure is, boss,” said a short woman with a shaved head and a large scar on her cheek.

“We could always go for more, though.”

“What do you want?” Sofia said, in a low voice. It took all her strength to keep it from trembling in the face of the guns and knives pointed at her. “I’ve got caps, you can-”

“Oh, that’s not why we’re here.”

“We’ll take ‘em, though,” said another raider with a gap-toothed grin. The leader gave a grunt of laughter.

“No, we know the Taphouse was Railroad, and you were with the Minutemen there. Either way. You’re a fucking traitor to humanity, and we’re gonna send a little message to anybody else like you. So are you gonna come quiet, or are we gonna have to knock you out like we did your friends?”

“You did _what?”_ in a moment, Sofia saw red. She reached for her pistol, but two raiders were on her in a second.

“Whoa now, we’ll be taking that, little lady,” one said, twisting the gun in her hands around. Next thing she felt was a blow to the head, and she slipped into unconsciousness.


	9. Foxtrot - Caged

Foxtrot awoke to the sound of a splitting headache. She sat up slowly, feeling where she’d been hit and grimacing as her hand met a lump that felt the size of a Mirelurk egg. Her limbs seemed heavy and her head sluggish.

“Ugh…” She looked around, eyes adjusting to the dingy surroundings. There was a lamp a little way away, which looked to her like a cruel mockery of the Railroad’s symbol. She felt bars behind her, and beyond that it was difficult to tell where they were. She’d guess an old metro tunnel if she had to - popular hideouts for raiders.

“Hey there,” said a low voice, and Foxtrot squinted across the large cage into the darkness. The crumpled figure of Haz, still unconscious, lay next to her, but further away were two more figures, sitting up.

“Wait, are you - Avalon?” Foxtrot said. He was a large, broad shouldered man with a bushy beard. “And D4-78?” As she spoke, her voice felt slurred and her head pounded.

“My name’s Donna now,” said the synth, a thin faced woman.

“Donna. It’s good to meet you two, although it would be nice if it was… in better circumstances. Agh, fuck,” Foxtrot swore as her head twinged with pain.

“Look, we have to get out of here,” Avalon said. “These guys are L&L, no question.”

“Then why aren’t we dead already?” Foxtrot hissed, fighting back panic.

“They said something about… rounding us up until they had enough to… send a message,” Donna said, swallowing. She seemed remarkably composed, and Foxtrot wondered what she’d been through since getting out of the Institute. Rifling through her pockets, Foxtrot swore as she realised her bobby pins were gone.

“I guess nobody has anything we can jimmy the locks with?”

“I got nothing,” Avalon said, stony faced. “So did… you got sent to find us?”

“HQ and Charmer sent me. This is just a tourist. He shouldn’t be in this mess,” Foxtrot said, nudging Haz. He let out a long groan and rolled over, eyes eventually fluttering open. “Although he got us into it.”

“Wh-whuh?” Haz said, trying to sit up too quickly and blinking hard. He looked about as bad as Foxtrot felt.

“Whoa, steady there,” Donna said, moving forwards and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you- are you who we were looking for?” Haz said. Donna and Avalon nodded. “Where are we?”

“We’re still in the city. This is an old metro tunnel, I heard the raiders talking about it,” Avalon said.

“But how close are we to where we got taken…?” Foxtrot wondered aloud. It was hard to think straight.

“I have no idea,” Avalon shrugged.

“How many of them are there?” Haz said, still woozy but apparently regaining some sense. _Although that might be a little generous,_ thought a small, spiteful part of Foxtrot.

“No. No, no, no. You thinking we can ‘take’ any amount of raiders no matter how big is what got us _into_ this mess,” she said, then looked to Avalon and Donna. “We heard footsteps, and instead of retreating he decided to _yell and attack them.”_

“Hey, no. Don’t go blaming this on me,” Haz said. “If you’d actually fought, we could have taken them on no problem.”

“ _No._ That’s not how we do it in the Railroad. It’s _always_ better to cut your losses than risk everything in some… grand gesture,” Foxtrot said, feeling a lump form in her throat. _Don’t start thinking about the Switchboard. Don’t._

“I’d rather risk myself to help others than save my own skin,” Haz said. Foxtrot stood up, too quickly, feeling her head spin and her hands shake with anger and stress. Her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

“If I wasn’t prepared to risk my life every single day, I wouldn’t be in the fucking _Railroad,”_ she hissed, furious at the tears that sprang to her eyes. “You think we’re cowards? How _dare-”_

“That’s enough!” The two of them stopped as a high voice cut through their argument. Donna was standing up. “You two were supposed to be here to _help_ us. _I_ shouldn’t be the one having to tell you to find a better time to settle your differences! The simple truth is, I need the Railroad, because I don’t want to live in a place where I might get lynched just for existing. I need to get to this... Acadia, and we all need to get _out of here,_ before this ‘L and L’ gang string us up across the city to scare people off helping synths!” she said, glaring at them. Foxtrot closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t know what the hell we’re going to do,” she said, rubbing her head. For once, she was clueless. “I’m sorry, Haz, I didn’t mean-”

“No. I should be the one apologising. I shouldn’t have belittled your cause simply because it is different to my own,” Haz said, bowing his head as if in deep thought.

“I guess I shouldn’t have been so quick to blame you for this,” Foxtrot said, and the four sat in silence for a moment. “We should focus on getting out of here, but we have no idea what we’re up against.”

“I don’t think it’s a huge camp of raiders, but they don’t come in here much, so it’s hard to know,” Avalon said. “I’d put it at about ten, fifteen. Not an amount I want to take on with no weapons.”

“God, if I had a bobby pin… just one or two god damn bobby pins and something for torque…” Foxtrot muttered, sifting through her pockets again to no avail. She was still on edge about what Haz had said, the sheer _density_ of it, but she forced it down. He didn’t know the Railroad’s history. Didn’t know _her_ history.

They all looked up as they heard the door opening. Someone walked down the stairs to what had once been the track, each step a heavy thud. Foxtrot's heart pounded as she saw he was carrying someone over his shoulder.

“Say hello to your new friend,” he chuckled, unhooking a key from his belt and opening the cage door. Foxtrot was so busy staring at the key it took her a moment to register who was tossed in.

Sofia.

 

“Haz?!” was the first thing out of her mouth when she woke up. Foxtrot had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. And they said they weren’t together. Haz had been holding her with her head in his lap the whole time, and after the raiders tossed a bottle of water in he’d refused his share, saying she could have it. He’d been freaking out ever since she was dropped in - why had she followed alone? Was she okay? Did the Castle know she was here?

Foxtrot and the others had given up trying to keep him calm until she awoke.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he said, supporting her as she sat up. She locked eyes with Foxtrot.

“Wait - _you?”_

“Um, good to see you again,” said Foxtrot. Sofia feebly pushed herself away from Haz, looking around the cage in confusion.

“What the hell is going on? Who are they? What _happened_ to you?”

“They were the… missing people I was going to find. Foxtrot here was helping me.”

“‘Helping’ you. Yes, like you’ve vaguely ‘helped’ her before. What is it you’re keeping from me? Why do all the things you’re not telling me seem to revolve around _her?”_ Sofia said, pointing to Foxtrot.

“Well, I don’t like guys, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said, trying to mask the fact her heart was beating quicker. Half a dozen secrets were skating on thin, thin ice. All it would take was one sappy moment from Haz and it could be game over.

“Really? Well, at least I don’t have to worry about that. Who are you?” Sofia looked at Avalon and Donna.

“I’m Donna.”

“... Alf,” said Avalon, improvising. Sofia’s eyes narrowed.

“Okay, I’m not an idiot. This is something to do with the Railroad, isn’t it?” she said, shifting away from them all. Suspicion. Brilliant, just brilliant. The synth saved by the Railroad mistrusted synths and the Railroad. Foxtrot would’ve laughed at the sheer irony of it if she hadn’t felt so much like crying. “Have you been lying to me since we met? Are you a synth?” She looked at Haz, and for a moment Foxtrot felt a stab of sympathy for her. Beaten up and caged, pushing herself into a corner, it was difficult not to. Haz gave a long sigh, squeezing his eyes shut. There was a silence. Foxtrot scanned the faces of her fellow captives. Unease from Avalon. Anger and uncertainty from Donna. Fear from Sofia. Sheer anguish from Haz.

“Look. It’s not certain that we’ll… that we’re going to get out of this,” said Haz, and Foxtrot felt as if an icy hand had gripped her heart. She hadn’t been expecting him to sound so… defeated. “And I don’t want to leave things unsaid, I don’t want… to die with you being angry at me.”

“Haz, no-” Foxtrot tried to interrupt, but he held up a finger and continued. She felt heat rise in her face, anger at being dismissed like that as well as at his approaching indiscretion.

“Sofia. I’ve been a… a tourist, a helper for the Railroad, for a few months now. I know how you feel about… synths, and the Railroad, but…”

“ _Haz,”_ Sofia said, looking utterly defeated. “I trusted you, and you’ve been…”

“What exactly is your problem with the Railroad?” Foxtrot said, unable to keep it in any longer.

“Of course you’d ask. You’re with them, aren’t you? ‘Foxtrot’. I guess that’s not your real name,” Sofia said, voice low and angry. “My _problem_ with the Railroad is that they put helping synths above helping the people whose lives have been destroyed by them.” Donna went to say something, but Avalon put a heavy hand on her arm. So the Institute had harmed Sofia somehow, killed her family, or her town, or something like that.

“Really? You have a problem because we’re willing to fight for something bigger than ourselves, because we put our lives on the line to help people nobody else will help?” Foxtrot said. Even people who hated the Institute, who should understand what it was like to be at the mercy of them, could hate the Railroad. But so many of the Railroad’s members had joined to take the fight to the Institute. She could feel her heart breaking, behind the anger. She didn’t like this anger, didn’t like how it sped up her thoughts and words and actions. She could almost hear it popping and crackling in her head, like gunshots.

“Can I please finish?” Haz said quietly, and something in his voice made them hush. What was he going to say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken what are likely some serious liberties with the lasting effects of being violently knocked out in this chapter, but it's such a common/useful trope I hope you'll forgive me!   
> Plus this is Fallout I guess, hyper-realism probably isn't what you're reading for lmao


	10. Haz - Sorry

For once, Haz could feel his ever-present positivity slipping away from him. It was hard to hold onto it in the gloom of the tunnel, with his friends bickering around him, people he wanted to help.

“Sofia. Please understand. I joined the Minutemen to help people, people like you. But I think even synths deserve a chance to live free. I wanted to do both, and I’m sorry I had to lie. I’m sorry… I’m sorry I let it get in the way of whatever it is we have, and I’m _so sorry_ you’re here, in danger, because of me…” he paused, scrubbing away tears and swallowing the lump in his throat. “And Foxtrot. The reason I rushed in, the reason I hate these raiders so _much,_ why I can’t stand to leave them… why I joined the Minutemen. I…” he stopped again, wondering for a moment if he should say it, then plunged ahead. _It might be now or never._ “I lived in a small settlement, at the edges of the Commonwealth. It was burnt by raiders. Most didn’t make it out alive. I was lucky. My… mother wasn’t,” he said. There was a long silence.

“I’m sorry,” Avalon was the first to break it. He said nothing more, but the look in his eyes spoke more than words.

“I’m sorry, and I’m sorry for being angry,” Sofia whispered, moving towards him again. She reached out a hand, which he gently took, and felt something rekindle in his heart. Maybe things wouldn’t be alright, maybe the sun would rise tomorrow and they’d all be dead, but at least he had this. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like you can’t… keep anything from me, but…”

“I know why you feel how you do. It’s… it’s like me and raiders. You and the Institute…” Haz said, and felt fear jolt through him as Sofia’s face crumpled, quiet sobs making her shake as she cried into his shirt.

“We fought the Institute,” Foxtrot said, in a hollow voice Haz couldn’t quite read. She was staring straight ahead, not looking at them as he put his arms around Sofia. “We fought them the only way we could, with everything we had. Whatever the Institute did to you, I’m sorry you had to go through that. But the Railroad isn’t your enemy.” Sofia didn’t say anything, and it didn’t seem as if Foxtrot saw the small nod she gave her, but Haz knew. He knew how hard it was for Sofia. She might know the Railroad weren’t her enemies, but it would be a long time before she could consider them friends. Yet he also knew he could barely comprehend what Foxtrot had been through. It couldn’t be easy, life in the Railroad. The Minutemen had a hard fight, but it was an honest one, fought in the open air, under a blue sky. And they were popular. The Railroad, on the other hand...

 

A tired, uneasy silence had fallen over the group after the confessions, during which time Haz waged an intense internal war with his conscience. Did he tell Sofia she was a synth or not? If the raiders got bored and they ended up with a bullet in their heads by morning, did he really want to take that secret to his grave, and die having kept something so huge from her?

But could he justify doing that to her, potentially making her live out her last few hours in panic and confusion and fear and doubt at her own _existence?_ Could he really do that just to satisfy his conscience? Would his conscience even be satisfied at all?

He watched Foxtrot pace the cage restlessly, searching for improvised lockpicks, weaknesses, anything. He listened to the sounds around them; faint gunfire could be heard over the drips and draughts of the tunnel. Just another night in the Commonwealth. He wished he could bring himself to help Foxtrot, but he couldn’t shake off his sinking feeling of morbidity, or his awful moral dilemma. But a decision was made. Haz shook Sofia awake from where she’d been sleeping against him.

“Sofia,” he said, glancing over at the other three. They were sat on the opposite side of the cage, whispering together. He lowered his voice. “I’ve been thinking, and… there’s something we need to talk about.”

“Yes?”

“Listen, I know this seems insane, but-”

The door to the tunnel clunked open, and Haz went silent, heart pounding in his ears. He wanted to blurt it out, just get it over and done with, but he couldn’t risk putting her in more immediate danger. A raider, the skinny one who had knocked him out with a baseball bat, appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a lamp in one hand; a bag and her bat in the other. The bag clinked as she put it down.

“Hey there, everybody,” she said, her voice jumpy. A Jet junkie. “We’re still working on getting just a feeeew more of you, a nice little collective, all together.” She kicked the bag, which clinked again. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t have any fun at all until we’re ready to send out the big message.”

“What’s this message anyway? Why do you need us to deliver it so badly?” Haz snarled, standing up, his face an inch from the bars of the cage. If he could at least delay the inevitable, it would be something. Or piss her off to the extent she would focus on him, anyway.

“Oh, we need to tell everyone not to fuck with the L&L. You don’t fuck with the L&L. And all those synth-fuckers out there who wanna?” She picked up her bat, and slapped it into her hand, “Are gonna _get it.”_

“What’s your problem with synth-fuckers? Is the the Brotherhood of Steel or something?” Foxtrot said, standing up. She wore a blasé smile, but the slight shaking in her legs betrayed her. The faintly audible gunshots from outside didn’t help to relax him. The raider growled, running her bat along the bars of the cage.

“Don’t make me give you a smacking, if you got knocked out it’d take the _fun_ out of it,” she said.

“I mean really, you both hate synths, both have something against fucking them…” Haz said, cautious of angering the raider futher - she was unstable enough as it is - but if they could keep her talking, maybe Foxtrot had some kind of plan…?

“Shut up! The Brotherhood are fucking assholes!” the raider said, smashing her bat against the bars of the cave. “Wish Leyster would get here with the fucking key already so he can help me hold you down whilst I carve ‘L&L’ into your fucking _foreheads,”_ she snarled.

“Careful, you might need us to help you spell it,” Donna spat. The raider turned on her.

“ _You._ You’re the one we _know_ is a synth, and I can’t fucking _wait_ to _-”_

They never found out, because at that moment, the door flew open and the crack of a pistol echoed through the tunnel. A spray of blood flew from the raider’s head and she slumped forwards, dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Things have been crazy lately and I've got behind on editing. New chapter up tomorrow to make up for it, hopefully!


	11. Sofia - Safe Here

Sofia scrambled back, stunned, a million terrible memories surging to the front of her mind as she saw the glint of the blood in the air, heard the _thud_ of the body hitting the ground. She could hear shouts, gunfire, and she instinctively reached for Haz’s hand, mistrust forgotten. She barely noticed as a woman with a shock of white hair and a huge minigun arrived in front of the cage.

“Glory!” Foxtrot cried.

“STAND BACK!” she yelled, and Sofia felt Haz’s arms around her. The group shielded their eyes as the woman pulled back her minigun and smashed it into the padlock on the cage door, shattering it in a shower of sparks. “Come on, let’s go!”

“There you are!” A familiar voice? Wait - was that - it was difficult to tell in the darkness, but it looked like General Diana Ridley, wielding the gatling laser Sofia had seen her tending to before. She and the other woman - Glory? - started helping them out. Sofia felt as if she could barely walk. Her head still throbbed, the room was spinning before her, the raider’s words hanging in her head - _you, you’re the one we know is a synth -_ Donna was a synth, Donna was a synth -

“Anyone injured?” a man’s voice from further up the tunnel called out.

“Shaken up but able to walk - mostly -” the General faltered as she saw Sofia stumble. Without saying a word, Haz scooped her up and carried her. She twisted her head, burying her face in his chest as if to try and block out the world. Maybe he was with the Railroad, but he was a Minuteman first, and Minutemen protected.

“We need to move out,” Glory said.

“Too right - what’s it looking like, Nick?” the General called out, and the name kicked up a memory in Sofia’s panicked mind. _Is that Nick Valentine?_ The tiniest glimpse out revealed the silhouette of a man in a hat and trenchcoat.

“Quiet. Could still be some knocking around, though. We should be careful,” he replied.

“I’ll take point,” Glory said, moving forwards. Sofia looked up at Haz for a moment. He smiled down at her.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered, and she could feel the vibration of his voice from his chest.

“Alright, let’s go! Move move move!” Diana yelled, and Sofia could feel the jolts as Haz’s boots hit the ground, hear the sound of running footsteps around her, smell the damp of the tunnel turn into the crisp scent of the night. Cold air washed over them. “Grab weapons as you go! We’ve got a few we already picked up. Avalon and you there-” Diana pointed to Donna “- you go with Glory.”

“Will do. Come on, this way,” Avalon beckoned Donna, and Sofia found herself staring hard at the synth, heart pounding in her ears.

_It’s not the Institute. This wasn’t them. This wasn’t them._

_You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re -_ Haz ducked down as bullets zipped over their heads. The five of them had cover behind some debris or something, Sofia didn’t know what - the darkness and the confusion and the panic made it hard to get any kind of idea of their surroundings, but they were still in the city, like they’d thought.

“Just one - where’d he - fuck!” Foxtrot swore. Sofia looked up and saw a raider running along a makeshift boardwalk, sighting down a rifle.

_Crack._

The pistol sounded again, and the raider fell. Nick Valentine - or so she assumed - lowered his gun, looking down as he reloaded.

“Nice one, Nick,” Diana breathed. Valentine turned, and as he did, moonlight glinted off a skeletal, metallic hand.

_No._

_No, that’s impossible._ She jolted so hard she fell from Haz’s grip, and scrambled to her feet.

Pistol holstered, he looked up, and from beneath the brim of his hat, two yellow eyes glowed.

_No no no this can’t be real this can’t be real -_

It was battered, but it was the same face that every synth had worn, the ones that had stormed into the town’s bar, killing everyone in sight. The same face that was burned into her mind, that had ruined her life.

She turned to run, chest constricting, nothing more than a whimper escaping her lips as she choked back tears, and whipped her head around as she felt a hand on her wrist - Haz, looking at her -

_This can’t be real, my head’s been hit, I’m delusional, I’m going crazy -_

_No no no NO NO NO-_

 

Sofia’s eyes fluttered hazily open, vision swimming, then she sat bolt upright, causing a rush of colours to her vision. _No, where am I, where is it -_

“Shh, easy, easy. You passed out,” Haz said, and she saw him sitting beside her. “It’s morning now, just about.”

“Where are-”

“We’re in a secure building, camping until we’re ready to move out. It’s safe here,” Haz said. It looked like what had been a small prewar home, rain dripping in through the sporadic holes in the roof. “We even managed to get most of our stuff back.”

“Did I dream the synth?” Sofia said, grabbing onto his arm with strength that surprised herself. She didn’t know what she wanted his answer to be - if she had, they were safe, but she had hallucinated. If she hadn’t - there was a synth here, and not even a human one, a machine, with hands like the skeletal robots that had torn her home to pieces, eyes like the ones which had burned through the darkness that terrible night, scanning for any movement.

“The… synth?”

“The one with - with the General, I don’t know if I dreamed it, Haz, I saw a synth, a robot, like - like the ones - the ones which-”

“You mean Mister Valentine?” Haz said, uncertainly.

“Oh my god,” Sofia whispered, squeezing her eyes shut and pulling her knees to her chest.

“You didn’t know Nick Valentine was a synth? I saw you talking with Ellie Perkins, I - assumed you knew,” Haz said.

“She never said!” Sofia cried, cursing herself and Ellie and this ‘Valentine’ and the Institute and fate- “She just talked about him - it - the synth - like her boss!”

“He _is_ just her boss,” Haz said.

“ _How?_ I don’t - the human-looking ones, they’re the ones that are… people, I guess, but I’ve _seen that face_ before, Haz! On the robots which massacred my town! They’re not people, I don’t understand, I don’t -”

“Shh, look, I know Valentine’s a Gen 2, and you’re right, they normally _are_ just robots, but he’s… different. Damned if I know why, but he’s a man alright, and he saved our asses.”

“I don’t know if I can deal with that, I don’t know if I can-” the pair looked around as they heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. General Ridley appeared, looking tired as all hell. The door to the room they were in was long gone, but she knocked on the frame anyway.

“Is this a bad time?”

“For what?” Sofia said.

“Food, for one thing. Here,” Diana tossed a bottle of water to Haz, who opened it and handed it to Sofia. She took a sip. “Got some Sugar Bombs, too.” The General moved into the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor and opening the box. She took a handful of the sugary puffs and ate them, passing the box onto Haz. “Never did understand all the crap they said about ‘shelf life is half life’, but whatever they did I guess it worked. Can’t believe you can still eat this stuff after 200 years.”

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” Sofia said. She wasn’t in the mood for casual banter. She was too tired, too scared.

“Well, yeah. You passed out on us last night, and I know a little bit about your… history, with the Institute and all that,” Diana said. “Can’t help but feel like your problem was with Nick,”

“Synths like that… scare me. That’s all there is to it,” Sofia said, as plainly as she could. _I don’t feel like being made into the villain._ “You sound like you know the reason.”

“Yeah, and I’m not trying to say you’re a bad person for that. But Nick’s different, I mean really different. He’s not just some robot. He’s… he’s one of my closest friends,”

“It- the syn- he was made by the Institute. The… programming…”

“Nicky’s more than a hundred years old. I think if he was going to betray us all, he’d have done it before the Institute got blown to pieces. Not to mention he’s been living in Diamond City for decades. Nick’s not a normal Gen 2, he’s a guy. Look, you might be scared, but it’s your responsibility to stop your fear making you into an asshole.”

“General, that’s-” Haz spoke up, frowning, and Sofia felt as if she’d been slapped.

“This isn’t _my fault!”_ she retaliated. “What happened to me, and how I react to it - I can’t _help_ it!”

“You went through something terrible. Know who else has had trauma at the hands of the Institute? Most of the Railroad. Fuck, I know how this sounds, I’m not trying to say you’re a terrible person for reacting how you did,” the General broke off, frustrated at herself. “I’m saying it’s possible to work past it, _heal_ , if you… let us help,”

“I know what helps me, it’s my music, and not thinking about it. Moving _on,”_ snapped Sofia. The last thing she wanted or needed was Diana Ridley talking down to her about something she knew nothing about. Haz reached out to take her hand, and she grabbed hold, squeezing it a little too tightly.

“Blacking out when you see a synth doesn’t sound too much like you’ve moved on,” Ridley said, her tone not accusatory, merely… as if she was stating facts. _But she’s not, she’s prying into things she shouldn’t._ Even Haz seemed on edge.

“Synths like that destroyed my town, and I don’t even know why. Can’t you just let me handle that by myself, and deal with the fact that I haven’t _asked_ for your help?” Sofia growled. It was almost imperceptible, but Ridley flinched at that, and a part of Sofia she wasn’t particularly proud of felt satisfied. _Maybe she’ll leave me alone now._

“General, with all due respect, you might want to leave this to us,” Haz said, voice tense.

“Please, will you just hear me out? Look, I’m not saying totally flip your whole thinking upside down in a few hours, I know this shit takes time, but it’s just in the interests of being practical that you get used to Nick. I mean, you live in Diamond City, right? He’s a regular face around there.”

“Apparently not that regular, since I had no idea he was a synth until now. His secretary could’ve mentioned it…” Sofia muttered.

“Oh, you know Ellie? Yeah, I had a pretty similar experience. First time I ever went looking for Nick he’d been missing for a couple of weeks, so I went looking. She told me I’d recognise him from his ‘old-timey detective getup.’” Ridley chuckled. “Ellie doesn’t even notice he’s a synth anymore. He’s just Nick,”

“How were _you_ not… shocked?” _To say the least?_

“Look, how much do you know about me?” Diana said, grabbing another handful of cereal. Sofia shrugged.

“You’re the Woman Out of Time. Spent 200 years in a cryo-vault, and emerged, and… I don’t know, rebuilt the Minutemen with Preston Garvey. Took down the Institute,” Sofia said. She didn’t want to repeat any of the _really_ far fetched rumours she’d heard, much less any of Vadim’s stories. She also wanted Ridley to get on with whatever it was she was trying to say. Ridley sighed.

“I crawled out of that vault with nothing but a pistol. My husband, everybody and every _thing_ I’d ever known was… gone,” she said, eyes glazing over a little. “I was in a completely different world, with ghouls, and giant bugs, and two-headed cows, and towns in baseball stadiums. A man made of metal was probably one of the _least_ remarkable things about the Commonwealth,” she said, leaning back. “Plus, my priority was finding my kid, and whoever killed Nate. I would never have done it - any of it - without Nick. I don’t have fucking _time_ to list all the shit he’s done for me, or tell all the crazy stuff we’ve pulled off together, or... say how much he means to me. I’m not trying to get a dig in at you, but I’m gonna give you some advice: have a conversation with him at some point, if he wants to. Keep your distance if you want, keep Haz around, doesn’t have to be now or even next week. Whatever. But you’ll see he’s a guy like any other, except a hell of a lot greater. Consider it, okay?”

With that, the General stood up, taking a last handful of Sugar Bombs and walking out of the door.


	12. Foxtrot - Old Wounds

Meanwhile, Foxtrot woke earlier than the rest, her broken Railroad sleep schedule at work again. It was hard to tell in the dim, drizzling light, but it seemed like it was maybe five in the morning. She and Charmer had let Haz and Sofia take the two mattresses that were in the house, with Charmer taking the sofa and Foxtrot flopping on some cushions and a rug, in a nook under the stairs. She was used to sleeping in scant conditions. As she awoke, she crept past Charmer, who snored very quietly, and out onto the porch of the house. Nick Valentine stood there, leaning on the railing, a lit cigarette dangling from his skeletal hand. Foxtrot smiled to herself - Nick was an old unofficial friend of the Railroad’s, one she’d met a while ago, and his habit of smoking cigarettes that couldn’t possibly do anything for him was always amusing. She paused, then strolled out and joined him. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, Foxtrot enjoying the feel of the gentle drizzle on her face. She dug a battered packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and took one out.

“Got a light?”

“Right here,” he replied, taking it out and handing it to her with a slight smile. She lit up and handed it back to him, blowing out a long stream of smoke.

“Thanks, Valentine,” she said. “You and the others really saved our asses.”

“Always happy to help,” he replied. “Especially Diana, and you lot. Guess you can’t say what the hell was going on, huh?”

“You know us too well, Nick,” Foxtrot chuckled. “Those guys were with the L&L gang, though, so hopefully we’ve scored a nice hit against them.”

“Glad to hear it. Are your friends going to be okay?”

“They’ll be fine. Glory knows her shit, and they’re going to a really good safehouse.”

“I mean, that’s good, but I actually meant the other ones.”

“Haz and Sofia? They’re not my friends,” Foxtrot said, staring out into the rain and taking a drag on her cigarette.

“Really?” Nick looked at her.

“What, you think being locked up together magically makes us friends? It’s not as if-” she sighed. “Haz decided to spill a bunch of Railroad secrets, and Sofia doesn’t even _like_ us. Not the best basis for a friendship.”

“Still, going through something like that together? _That’s_ a basis for friendship. Don’t be so quick to write off anyone who’s not Railroad,” Nick said.

“Nick, the Railroad aren’t just my friends, they’re my _family,”_ Foxtrot said. “They’re all I’ve got these days, and we stick together. I can’t be friends with anyone who doesn’t respect that. She _passed out_ when she saw you, let’s not try and pretend that didn’t happen. I just - I don’t even know what to do. The _irony_ of it is what gets me. Deacon and Carrington saved her life, but if she met them and knew they were in the Railroad she wouldn’t go near them with a ten-foot pole.”

“Deacon and Carrington - what, is she a synth or something?”

“Oh, shit,” Foxtrot said. She’d forgotten he didn’t know. “I really wasn’t supposed to tell you that, I sort of thought you knew.”

“Makes this mess even more complicated. Diana told me about what the Institute did to her town, and now this? What are you gonna do about it?”

“I have no idea. HQ said to leave it to Charmer, Deacon said she’s got ‘experience’ with that kind of thing, although beats me what he meant by that. I think Haz was - about to tell her, right before you guys came in.”

“In a place like that? Was he really sure that was a wise decision?” Nick looked doubtful, a feeling Foxtrot mirrored.

“I don’t think ‘wise decisions’ are really his vein of thinking.”

“Yeah, looks like you took all the ‘wise’ for yourself when you took that helping of ‘wise-ass’.” Nick replied, and Foxtrot laughed.

“You know I take that as a compliment, Valentine,” she said, then sobered. “But… yeah. If we tell her, she’ll freak, and if we don’t… I dunno, I feel like she’ll find out somehow anyway, and then she’ll freak even more. Maybe Haz should just get it out there, because I really don’t think he can keep secrets from that girl.”

“Keep Diana around if he does. Not often I say this, but Deacon was right - she does have experience with this kind of thing,” Nick said, dropping the remains of his cigarette and grinding it out.

“Experience of what kind? I mean, how?” Foxtrot asked, puzzled. She blew out some smoke.

“Sorry, kid, not my story to tell,” Nick shrugged.

“Heh. Should’ve guessed. Good old compartmentalisation,” Foxtrot said with a chuckle.

“Something like that.”

Foxtrot finished her cigarette, and they stood watching the silent rainy street in the pale morning light. They were somewhere on the outskirts of the city now, judging by the buildings.

“Cap for them?” Nick said eventually.

“You wouldn’t really want to pay if you knew,” Foxtrot said with a weary smile. “Sorry, just… I don’t know, we were all stressed out and saying a lot of regrettable things down there, but some of the stuff they said about us… it got to me,”

“About the Railroad?”

“Yeah. Stuff like how… ‘you help synths instead of people whose lives have been destroyed by them’ and it’s just - synths _are_ people whose lives have been destroyed by the Institute.”

“Too right,” Nick said quietly.

“Oh my god, Nick, sorry if this is a little close to home or anything-”

“No, it’s old news. Institute tossed synths out like toys they didn’t want to play with anymore, yet when people escaped of their own volition…”

“They were really bad at sharing, yeah,” Foxtrot said, feeling jittery. “I mean, fuck, god knows none of us do what we do for thanks, or glory, because that’s not what we’re about, but hearing people talk like we don’t give a shit about the Commonwealth when for _years_ we were the only people bringing the fight to the Institute in any way…” Foxtrot sighed. “God knows we paid the price for it.” She felt the faint twinge in her left shoulder, and rolled her arm in its socket. _The Switchboard. We thought we had such a good gig going at that HQ._

“Old wounds?” Nick said, giving her a concerned look.

“Always acts up when I think about it.” That was the thing with laser weapons, they had a range on them. Beyond it, their beams lost power rapidly. Carrington had said if she’d been twenty feet closer it would’ve been a lot worse. Firing on the retreating. Of course they would. They were just like all the other pathetic, violent cowards in the world.

“You should get a couple more hours of rest, if you can,” Nick said, and Foxtrot nearly jumped as he put a hand on her shoulder. She softened, and smiled.

“Thanks for lending an ear, Nick.”

“Always a pleasure,” Nick said. Lifting a hand in parting, Foxtrot headed back inside. Charmer had left the sofa, and she could hear voices upstairs, so she flopped down and tried to get some more sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little update, to get the schedule all back on track!  
> Like I could resist having a rainy, emotional conversation over cigarettes with Nick Valentine. Who could, right?


	13. Haz - Start Talking

Sofia had been sitting on an end table since the General left, jiggling her leg and staring out of the cracked window to their room. Haz bit at his nails.

“Your General has some nerve,” Sofia said eventually.

“It’s how she got where she is,” Haz replied. Sofia rolled her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant, you know it isn’t.”

“I know what you meant; you thought that she was being mouthy and a bit pushy, but that’s what I meant too. She’s a good leader because she’s honest, and she pushes people out of their comfort zones.”

“I thought I was never going to _find_ my comfort zone again, Haz. Now that I’m in it, I don’t want to leave, in - in case it disappears, and I can’t get back,” Sofia replied, and the slight catch in her voice tore at Haz’s heart. He took her hand.

“I know how you feel. Believe me, I understand what it’s like to live for so long looking over your shoulder that you feel like you can never relax again. But after standing still for too long… you start wanting to get moving.”

“I thought things were moving when I got out of Goodneighbour, when I made it in Diamond City. That was enough change. I wanted to settle. Now, all of this…” she dabbed at her watery eyes.

“This is my fault. I’m so damn sorry…” Haz said. _Enough change…_ God, how could he ever tell her the truth? If he’d never taken up with the Railroad, if he’d been more careful on that mission, hadn’t been kidnapped, maybe they could’ve had a shot at an easy life together.

“No, you can’t start blaming yourself - you’re too harsh,” Sofia said, squeezing his hand. “I came to the Castle. I followed you when you disappeared. I chose this.”

“But why? Why put yourself in danger like that?” Haz said. Sofia shifted off the table and sat down next to him, their backs against the wall. She placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at her, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

“You put yourself in danger for others every day,” she said.

“That’s… that’s because I’m a Minuteman. It’s our job. We have people backing us up, teams, a cause. You don’t have that.”

“I have you,” Sofia said, a small smile emerging on her face. Haz breathed in sharply, feeling as if someone had plunged knife into his heart; it was a good pain, an ecstatic pain he’d happily endure for the rest of his life, but painful nonetheless. “I’m sorry I was angry at you in the tunnel, I suppose we normally talk so easily, so freely… the thought you were keeping something from me felt so odd, but of course we’ve got secrets.” Now the knife was twisting. _So easily, so freely._ He’d just worked up the nerve to tell her in the tunnels, with the looming threat of death above them, but now, sat in this quiet ruin, light filtering through the dirty window, it was hard to muster the courage. “Haz?” Sofia said, noticing his faraway look.

“I just..."

“Is this… about what you were going to say in the tunnels?” Haz cursed his transparency. Was he that easy to see through? He could feel his stomach twisting in knots. Now or never.

“Yeah. Look, there’s something… really big that I need to talk you about.”

“Well… we don’t have to move out for a while.”

Haz squeezed his eyes shut, sending a silent plea for strength to anything listening, and took a deep breath.

“The Railroad.... They think that you might - or that - agh, shit…” Haz stumbled and broke off. Sofia looked at him, a concerned frown emerging.

“Haz… what have they said to you?”

“They said… that you’re a synth.”

 

There was a moment of horrible silence where Haz could hear nothing but the pounding of his heart in his ears, see nothing but Sofia’s face contorting as she attempted to make sense of what he’d just said.

“Wh- _what?”_ she blinked, as she didn’t understand, or didn’t believe. “Say it again.”

“Please, Sofia, you have to-”

“Say it… again. Please,” Sofia said. Haz felt almost as if he was about to throw up. _If that’s how I’m feeling… how is she feeling?_

“The Railroad think that you’re a synth,” Haz repeated. She sat for a moment, expression unreadable, then got up and walked out of the door. “Sofia?” Haz followed as she strode down the stairs, to where Foxtrot lay sleeping on the sofa - a brief glance out of the open door showed Diana and Valentine out on the porch. So fast Haz barely registered what was happening, Sofia grabbed Foxtrot by the front of her coat, hauled her off the sofa, and slammed her into the wall, one arm across her throat. Her well-muscled archer’s arms and shoulders made it look nearly effortless. Foxtrot’s eyes flew open and she instinctively reached for her gun, but Sofia pinned her wrist to the wall with her other hand.

“Sofia!” Haz said, horrified.

“ _Why did you tell him I was a synth?”_ she said, voice so full of venom it almost didn’t sound like her at all. Foxtrot pulled at the arm across her neck with her one free hand.

“What the - it wasn’t me that - told him, it was the General - and it’s - true-”

“NO! No it’s _NOT!_ It’s just the Institute and your fucking _Railroad_ trying to MESS WITH MY HEAD!” Sofia shouted. The raised voices caught the attention of Diana and Valentine, and they hurried inside.

“What the hell’s going on here?” Diana said, looking from Sofia to Haz.

“You! All of you!” Sofia threw her arm out to point at the General and detective, which was enough of an opportunity for Foxtrot to free herself. “You’re trying to get in my head, I don’t know what the _fuck_ you’re trying to pull, whether you think this will make me _like you-”_

“If you’d just calm down and let us _explain-”_ Foxtrot began.

“Shut up!” Sofia rounded on her. “So you’re all in on it? What, did that - he - the syn-” Sofia pointed at Valentine, face scrunching as she tried to work out what to call him. She looked at Haz in confusion, and he felt his heart sink. She still didn't know if synths were people. He shouldn't have told her, God, he should've waited, what had he done- “What do I-”

“It’s ‘detective’ or ‘Mister Valentine’ to you,” Nick said, unimpressed, before Haz could answer.

“Fine, did _Valentine_ put you up to this? Did you think it’d make me like synths more? Because it’s _not working,”_ Sofia growled. Diana stepped between them.

“Hey, lay off Nick,” she said, her voice full of warning. “He’s got nothing to do with this. _I_ told Haz what the Railroad told me, which is that you’re a synth. It’s not-”

“And I’m telling _you,_ the Railroad are fucking with you _and_ me, because that’s _not possible,”_ Sofia said, and Haz saw she was starting to shake.

“Look, Sofia, this has gone all wrong, can we just sit down and _talk_ about it, please?” Haz pleaded. Sofia’s eyes met his, and the confusion in them broke his heart. Even when she was being violent and loud and unpleasant, he couldn’t help but see the frightened girl inside who’d lost her home.

“I don’t want to give them _any more_ of a chance to screw with me.”

“We’re not trying to screw with you! We’re trying to do the _opposite!”_ Foxtrot said. Sofia lunged again, and Haz caught her by the wrist, putting a hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him.

“Sofia,” he looked into her eyes, which had started to brim with angry, confused tears. “You need to stop,” he said, quiet but firm. She stayed still for a moment, just standing there, before nodding. As she reached up a hand to scrub away her tears, he took it gently.

“Fine,” she said eventually, turning to look at the other three. She sat down on the sofa. “Start talking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, there it is, folks.   
> Back onto the normal update schedule now!


	14. Sofia - Painful Truths

It took all Sofia had to stay seated whilst Foxtrot and Ridley talked. All her composure not to break down crying, or punch one of them in the face, or scream, or demand Valentine leave. She hated having him there, hated those glowing yellow eyes and that metal hand and the holes where the wires showed through; it made her feel sick. But she couldn’t bear the pained look Haz had given her when she’d called the detective ‘that’, and she didn’t want to push her luck with Ridley, either.

“And you expect me to believe this?” Sofia said, when they had explained. She looked at Haz, who was sat staring at the floor, jaw tight.

“It’s the truth. It might be a painful one, but it’s the truth,” Foxtrot said simply.

“How can I know that? You’ve got no proof, no evidence, nothing beyond second- and third-hand tales from people I don’t even know and _certainly_ have no reason to trust,” Sofia said. “I want to hear it from their mouths, and I want concrete proof, or I’m done with you.” If these people who had allegedly saved her life could look her in the eyes and tell her so, it would be something. If they had concrete proof, that was something else. If they did… _what then?_ A small part of Sofia wondered, but she shoved it down. It was a _big_ ‘if’.

“You seriously think I’m going to organise a meeting with the most senior members of the Railroad for you - someone who’s shown nothing but contempt for our cause - and waste a bunch of time and resources trying to track down ‘concrete proof’?” Foxtrot said. _Of course. Of_ course _they don’t have real proof, it’s all just lies, trying to get you on their side by claiming they saved your life, using Haz like that, I can’t believe-_ Sofia jumped as Haz stood up.

“Waste?”

“Well, I mean-”

“No person has any right to deny her that! It is such a fundamental part of her, her story, her LIFE, and yet you withhold your help because you think it’s a ‘waste of time’!? FUCK. OFF. At least I witnessed my mother's death, so there couldn't have been any question on the FUCKING MATTER AT HAND!”

He stood for a moment, breathing heavily, face red, then turned and walked out of the door into the still-pattering rain. Sofia glared around at the remaining three - _the conspirators, the liars -_ before taking off after him.

 

Sofia found him a short way away, around the other side of the house next door. He gave the rotting clapboards an idle kick, and looked up. They stood, ten feet apart, staring at each other for a moment. Were those tears on his face, or was it just the rain?

“... You believe them,” Sofia said at length. As she said the words, she felt as if a yawning void opened up at her feet, ready to swallow her whole. “You think I’m a synth.”

“What the General said to me sounded plausible. I never told her about your injury or your past, so… I don’t see how else she’d know about that. Everything else… it just fits around it,” Haz said. “But if you need proof, they have to give it to you. They’re supposed to help.”

“I won’t believe it without proof. There’s more than one way to find out someone’s past, that bit doesn’t prove anything. The Railroad and the Institute have eyes and ears everywhere,” Sofia said, feeling her skin crawl at the thought of it. Too late, she realised Haz _was_ a pair of eyes, a pair of ears for them. She focused on the rain, the droplets hitting her face. This was real. _She_ was real.

“Sofia, I don’t think the Railroad are trying to mess with you. That’s not what they’re like,” Haz said, taking a step towards her.

“You said it yourself, you’re not a real member - you just gave them information. Now they’re using you to feed me their lies,” Sofia spat. “How are you not as angry as I am?”

“They try and help synths. That’s what they do. They’re not as… sinister as you think, I promise. You need to stop thinking they’re like the Institute.They’re people, like you and me, trying to make a difference.”

“My problem is they’re trying to say I’m _not_ a person,” Sofia said, her head still spinning. Haz took another couple of steps towards her.

“That’s not what they’re saying at all.”

“They’re saying I’m a _synth_ , Haz!” How did he not get it?!

“Yes, they are. And I believe them,” Haz said.

“How can you say that so calmly?” Sofia cried, infuriated, shaking. Haz closed the distance between them, taking her hand and pushing her dripping hair out of her face.

“Because you could be a synth, you could be a ghoul - fuck it, you could be an _alien -_ and it wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference to me, and how I feel about you,” Haz said, touching his forehead against hers. “Not the tiniest bit.” Sofia felt her tears mingling with the rain, felt her heart skip two beats, felt her breath quicken.

 

Without even thinking, she put her hands to his face and kissed him. And in that moment, for the first time since - hell, since she left the Castle - everything made sense.

 

When they broke apart, Sofia put her arms around his neck, feeling the heat from their faces and breaths mingle, warmth on cold skin.

“You know I said I was worried about losing my comfort zone?” she whispered.

“Yes?” Haz said.

“I’m not anymore,” Sofia pushed his wet hair away from his brow. “He’s right here.”

 

They sat in the ruins of the house next door for a while, Sofia resting her head on Haz’s shoulder, just appreciating being near him.

“What now?” she said eventually. The words scared her. “We move forward. Where you go, I go. We look for proof,” Haz replied.

“I mean looking for proof. How do we even start?”

“We start with Foxtrot,” Haz said, looking at her. Sofia felt her heart sink. She wanted to avoid the Railroad, Foxtrot, everything to do with them, yet at the same time… she knew he was right. “I think we need to go back and apologise, and ask for her help.”

“Ask? You said yourself they don’t have any right to keep this from me,” Sofia muttered.

“I said that in anger, anger that the issue was called a ‘waste of time’. I still stand by that, but what I said was… I went too far. And so did you,” Haz said gently. It still stung, but not too much. He was right. “The Railroad have had a bitter time fighting the Institute, and you practically compared the two.”

“...You’re right,” Sofia said with a heavy sigh. “We need them, don’t we? If I’m ever going to find out… the truth.” How could she explain the screaming fear which blanked out her mind when she thought about it? The fact she might be a synth? She hated to admit it was plausible but it _was._ The amnesia, the gaps in her memory… when they’d brought up memory wipes she’d nearly walked out then and there, but… _I can see why someone would want to forget they were a synth._

“Come on. I’m with you every step of the way,” Haz said, giving her a pat on the shoulder.


	15. Foxtrot - Where to Start

“He’s right, we need to sort this out,” Charmer said, glancing at the others. Foxtrot looked away, her arms folded. Her throat was recovering from where Sofia had pinned her. After she and Haz had left, Foxtrot had fumed for a while. Tossed around, insulted, accused of ‘screwing with’ her even when they were trying to be open and tell the truth, Sofia was unbearable… and now Foxtrot had to grudgingly admit that Charmer was right, they needed to fix this problem and help her. But-

“I’m not going to compromise my other priorities for this, Charmer! She’s acting like an entitled-”

“She’s just had her whole nature called into question. Cut her some slack,” Nick said, lighting a cigarette. Foxtrot turned to him.

“ _You’re_ standing up for her?”

“I’m saying her town got razed by the Institute and she doesn’t like synths. Doesn’t justify how she’s acting, but it sure as hell explains it,” Valentine said. “That and this whole situation seems… familiar.” He glanced at Charmer, who nodded slowly.

“Okay, point taken, but - everybody keeps saying you’ve had ‘experience’ with this stuff before, Charmer, what the hell do they mean?” Foxtrot asked. Charmer hesitated for a long moment, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Damn, you wouldn’t know, would you, you don’t meet directly with Brotherhood informants… I’ll tell you, but seriously, this can’t get spread around, okay? You know that Brotherhood of Steel Paladin I hung around with, Danse?”

“Oh my god, _he_ was a synth?”

“Still is. He’s not past tense, despite Maxson’s best efforts. I wasn’t there when he found out, but when I got to him, he was ready to put a bullet in his head. Now I’m not saying Sofia’s headed the same way, but I’m saying we need to pick up our pieces. We’re supposed to help synths, and to me that doesn’t just mean running them out of the ‘Wealth.”

“Fine. If you smooth things over at HQ-” Foxtrot cut herself off as Haz and Sofia reappeared. There was a moment as the five stared at each other, then Haz stepped forwards.

“I need to apologise for my earlier outburst. Whilst I stand by my point - that if Sofia needs proof then we should be doing everything in our power to give it to her - I expressed it… in anger, and making you feel guilty by dragging in my own past wasn’t something I should’ve done,” he said, in a low, quiet voice. Sofia looked up, and as she stepped in next to Haz, Foxtrot saw her take his hand.

“I… need to apologise too. For hurting you, Foxtrot, and for making those... accusations about the Railroad,” she said. “I was just confused, and angry, but… it’s still my responsibility to try and deal with that. And…” she hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry for acting like I did to Valentine.” It was muttered, tacked on the end, but it was something, and Nick nodded to her.

“I accept that apology,” Foxtrot said. “I’m sorry I said it would be a waste of time and resources finding proof for you. It’s just... not the sort of thing I’m used to doing.”

“I know this is probably a lot to ask, but… will you help?” Sofia asked. “Please?” she added, after a second’s thought. Foxtrot glanced to Charmer, who gave her a tiny nod.

“Yeah. I’m helping. I don’t know how much good it will do, and I still don’t think I’ll be able to get a meeting with the Alphas for you, but for better or worse, I’m in,” Foxtrot said.

“Thank you,” Sofia replied, and for the first time since they’d met it felt as if a door had opened. They were a team now, and whilst Foxtrot knew their problems weren’t solved, it was progress.

“Well, I’m glad that’s all wrapped up. I need to head up to Sanctuary now. Hope the search goes well, come find me if you need me,” Diana said. “Nick, you coming?”

“As much as I’d like to, I need to get back to the Agency. I’ve hardly seen Ellie in weeks,” Nick said with a smile, heading to the door with the General. “Send Garvey and Sturges my regards. And Dogmeat,”

“Of course,” Charmer laughed.

“Good luck with the search, and stay safe,” Nick said to the remaining three as he and Charmer left. Foxtrot waved, and when their chatter was no longer audible, she looked at Haz and Sofia.

“Well. I guess the question now is... where to start?”

 

A short while of sitting and thinking offered nothing.

“You have records and… intel and things, don’t you? There must be some proof if I’m... a synth somewhere in there,” Sofia said, pacing around. Foxtrot shrugged.

“Look, I don’t know what you want me to do. I’m trying to help to give you some certainty but we only keep records of synths for a certain amount of time. We destroy all our files after that point, so the Institute wouldn’t be able to find who we’d helped,”

“You’ve got _nothing?”_ Sofia said, pacing up and down. “There must be _something,_ somewhere _."_

“You were way before my time, you weren’t dealt with at our… our last HQ, but the one before. I don’t even know where that is.”

“Well, let’s just go to the last one. There may be something that got missed. Where is it?” Haz said, all business, and Foxtrot felt her heart freeze up. Felt her shoulder twinge.

“No,” she said, quietly. “We’re not going there.”

“What? We have to at least _try!”_ Sofia said. “What if something got left behind there?” Foxtrot turned away and braced herself on the counter. She gripped the edge, knuckles turning white.

“I can’t go back there.”

“Foxtrot…? What… happened there?” Haz said, stepping forwards and going to place a hand on her shoulder. Her bad shoulder. She jerked away violently, stepping backwards. Haz put his hands up apologetically.

“Do you think we’d leave behind a well-defended, well-hidden HQ because we wanted to?” Foxtrot said, managing to regain a bit of composure. “No. They... found us.”

“The… Institute?” Sofia said, quiet horror on her face.

_Gunfire._

_Screams._

_Robotic voices._

_Flashes of movement from unknown sources, the cloaking technology of a Courser._

_Agents falling left and right._

_The scramble to get documents, destroy hard drives, and not think about who was lying bleeding on the ground._

Foxtrot nodded.

“I… can you take us there? You don’t have to go in,” Haz said. Foxtrot felt her chest tighten, but she nodded again. “I can take you there. It’s to the north-west. In an old Slocum’s Joe,”

“Your base was in a pre-war coffee place?” Haz raised an eyebrow.

“No, an old DIA base. The intelligence agency from before the war,” Foxtrot explained, calming down a bit. “It was hidden under the Slocum’s.”

“That makes more sense,” Sofia said.

“We’d better get moving if we want to be there in good time,” Foxtrot said, glancing out to the sky. The rain had eased off, at least. “You’ve got a PipBoy, right? That means a map,” she looked at Sofia. Panic crossed her face for a moment, then annoyance.

“I left it at the Castle.”

“Guess we’ll have to make our own way. It’s okay, I can get us there,” Foxtrot said. Haz nodded.

“I know the area pretty well myself. Let’s get moving,” he said with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Apologies for the unplanned hiatus, but Life got in the way of editing for a while.  
> At least things are back on track, with a new arc starting and our main three all together again!


	16. Haz - Descent

It was early evening by the time the group crested a hill and saw the Slocum’s Joe they were looking for in the distance. Wanting to give the raider-filled Corvega Factory a wide berth and avoid the shitstorm that was Lexington in general, they’d looped around and approached from the west. They weren’t too far from Starlight City, the Minutemen’s crown jewel, here. Haz was grateful for that. It’d save them having to bunk down in the ‘Switchboard’, as Foxtrot called it, and she could head there whilst they investigated; Starlight City also contained the Railroad’s Mercer Safehouse.

“There’s an entrance through the utility tunnels close by here, but it’s quicker if you just use the elevator in the basement,” Foxtrot said as they headed for the old coffee-and-doughnut diner. She’d been quiet on the journey there, and Haz wanted to do something - wanted to know more, wanted to try and comfort her somehow, but he just didn’t know what to say.

“Are you _sure_ it’s safe?” Sofia asked, for the fifth time.

“It’s clear. It got cleared out a while back by a couple of our HQ agents. A few people have been there since, and it’s been all quiet.” Foxtrot answered.

“And it’s not locked up or anything?” Haz said.

“It shouldn’t be.” They came to a halt. “I’ll see you later, then?” Foxtrot looked at them.

“Yeah, I - what was that?” Sofia cut herself off. They all felt it. Faint, but there. Like a tremor in the ground.

“It’s coming from over there.” Foxtrot pointed towards the ruins of the old car park, just across from the Slocum’s Joe. Her voice was hushed. Haz strained his eyes but couldn’t see anything.

Then, it appeared. Lumbering around a corner.

“Oh my God. It’s a Behemoth,” he whispered, hitting the dirt instantly. The ground shook again as the thing let out a roar. Towering, taller than the building it passed, it hefted its huge fire hydrant club over one shoulder.

“If we just lie low and stay still, it won’t notice us,” Foxtrot said.

“Are you kidding me? Those things have a sense of smell, and more hearing than you think,” Haz whispered back. “We need to get out of here, and there's only one safe place that we can reach.”

The Behemoth seemed to sniff the air. It was getting closer. They needed to move, and _fast._

Haz saw the expression on Foxtrot’s face, and felt awful. But the choice was the Switchboard, or the Behemoth’s stomach.

“On three, we run into the Slocum’s, and to the basement where you say this elevator is,” Haz said, looking at Sofia and Foxtrot. Sofia nodded. Foxtrot’s face was white, but she gave a small nod, her mouth in a thin line. “One… two…” The Behemoth grunted, and looked straight to where they were lying. “THREE! GO GO GO!” Haz yelled, pushing himself up and sprinting for all he was worth. He heard the _thumps_ of the thing’s footsteps as it saw something running and gave chase, winced as it roared again. Foxtrot was quick on her feet, a few steps ahead of him, and for a heart-stopping moment he saw her stumble - but she caught her balance and ran on. Haz could see Sofia running just behind him out of the corner of his eye. He heard the swish of rushing air and ducked, hearing the mutant’s club whistle behind him. Foxtrot skidded down the road and into the diner; Haz and Sofia followed, the Behemoth barely ten feet behind them. As they disappeared into the building, it let out an almighty bellow.

“Come on, the elevator’s- _shit!”_ Foxtrot swore as the whole building shook. The doorway they’d entered through shattered under the thing’s club.

“It’s smashing its way in!” Sofia yelled.

“Let’s go!” Foxtrot didn’t need to say it twice. She sprinted around the corner and leapt down the stairs, two, three at a time. She burst through the door at the bottom, and smashed the button to the elevator. In the excruciating few moments it took for it to open, there came another rumble and smashing noise. The three piled in and Foxtrot hammered the button. The doors closed and only dim light remained as they descended to the Switchboard.

 

The elevator gave a _ping_ as it came to a halt. A last faint roar was audible, but after a few more moments it faded. Silence fell.

“Everyone alright?” Haz asked, looking around. Foxtrot and Sofia were catching their breath too, but Sofia nodded.

“I’m… fine,” she said. Foxtrot said nothing.

“So this is the Switchboard…” Haz said. A long, concrete corridor stretched out beyond them. As they walked down it, it branched out into more rooms, more corridors. There were signs of chaos everywhere - desks thrown over as if to provide cover, shattered mugs, burn marks and bullet holes in the walls - yet no bodies. He wondered if the other visits Foxtrot had mentioned had been the Railroad recovering their dead.

“You want either the vault or the main control room,” Foxtrot said, her voice tight. “If there’s anything left… it’ll be there.”

“Understood,” Haz said in a low voice. He glanced at the blue signs on the walls. R&D. Department X. Checkpoint Alpha. WC. “Where…?”

“For the vault, follow the signs for Department X. For the control room, Checkpoint Alpha. Look, I’ll… I’ll catch up with you later. In the control room,” she said, and took off without another word. Haz and Sofia exchanged glances.

“For her to be back here…” Sofia said once she was out of earshot. Haz nodded grimly as they walked down the corridors. A few sporadic pre-war enlistment posters still clung to the otherwise bare walls, and he couldn’t help but feel like he was descending into the belly of a beast. Everywhere across the Commonwealth, pieces of people’s lives before the war were left, almost perfectly preserved - but this place was different. It had been a secret then and it was still secret now; it had an extra level of eerie stillness which made him feel as if he was trespassing. Turning a corner, he saw a room filled with tools, workbenches and chests. And, on the other side, a huge, open vault door. Sofia overtook him, jogging into the vault. Metal boxes still lined the shelves that covered the walls, but their eyes were drawn to the centre. A pile of black, charred remains, a few flakes of paper, their edges singed, drifting about as they were disturbed.

“They burnt them,” Sofia said, kneeling down and snatching up the few papers that had escaped the flames, scattered on the floor of the vault. "All the papers..." Haz’s eyes, however, drifted to the spray of blood on the wall. Somehow, it was almost more unnerving when there was no body to accompany it. “I don’t understand any of this.” Sofia straightened up and handed him a piece of paper. It was written in untidy writing, which didn’t help, but even the words themselves were so clearly interspersed with casual code and hidden meanings that Haz couldn’t make head or tail of it.

“We’ll have to ask Foxtrot, but… looks like the Railroad tried to burn these papers to protect their secrets. It seems like it’d be an insane bit of luck that something not even from this HQ but their _previous_ one would’ve survived,” Haz said. Sofia smiled bitterly.

“Yeah, we just don’t get that kind of luck, do we?” she said. If it weren’t for their surroundings, Haz would’ve laughed, but he settled for planting a kiss on her forehead.

“We’ll make something of it soon. Let’s check the terminals, and - keep an eye out for anything comms related, like a ham radio. The sooner we can get a message to the Minutemen about that Behemoth, the better.”

“Didn’t Foxtrot say something about an escape tunnel?” Sofia asked.

“True, but it’s not safe to have that thing wandering around so close to settlements,” Haz said. “It needs to be taken out.” He allowed himself a small smile.

“And you’ll volunteer,” Sofia said. Haz nodded.

“It’d be a pleasure to take it down.”

“Of course.” Sofia shook her head with a faint smile. “Come on. Let’s keep looking. I know this place was a long shot, and I feel… bad that Foxtrot is here… so we might as well make sure we’ve really explored the place,”

“Roger that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boom! A double-chapter update to make up for the absence.  
> I know that in-game, especially at higher levels, Behemoths really aren't as scary as I've made them out to be here, but I like to take a sliiightly more realistic approach to danger and fights in fic. As in, I like to imagine their skin is incredibly tough to the extent that normal bullets just annoy them, and realistically there's no way anybody is surviving a direct hit from those fire-hydrant bats, am I right?


	17. Sofia - Real People

The terminals of the Switchboard contained nothing useful, only pre-war trash Sofia skimmed before losing interest. Rooms devoted to huge computers yielded nothing either - the servers were all long dead, their spinning wheels and lights lay still and silent, covered in dust. Eventually, after looking at a dead end which held nothing but toilets, they ended up in the main control room. Sofia’s eyes went wide as she walked in, past the desk and flags to the window which overlooked the rest of the room. It opened out into a huge space, a large seal visible on the floor below. _Defense Intelligence Agency._ Overturned desks scattered what had once been a workplace, and Sofia could see open doors to the left and right.

“It’s amazing what the pre-war government had up their sleeves,” Haz murmured.

“Mm,” Sofia stared at what she assumed was a map of the world pinned up on the wall opposite the window. Then she turned back, looking at the terminal. “Can you keep looking into the terminals? I’ll check downstairs,” she said.

“Of course, you go ahead. See if Foxtrot’s around,” he replied.

“Yeah…” said Sofia. She wandered out, and down one of the two staircases which flanked the main work area. Stepping into the room to the left, there was nothing there but a few beds, footlockers, and more stacked desks. Looking at the open lockers, Sofia felt something stab at her heart. _It was real people that lived here._

After staring for a moment more, it seemed obvious the room didn’t contain anything of use, so she headed out into the central workspace again. More papers scattered the floor, but whether they were pre- or post-war, Sofia didn’t know. She’d pick them up in a moment. For now… she walked over to the room the other side of the symmetrical floor plan, and hesitated when she heard it.

Sobs. And words between them, words she could barely make out.

“...Songbird. Maven. Roger.” It took Sofia a moment to recognise them as names. _Codenames._ “I’m sorry Beatrice Bell, I’m sorry Tommy Whispers.” A sob, and some more. “They’re all - if we’d just -” Sofia felt a shiver pass through her as she realised these were the names of fallen agents, ones she assumed had died here. She stepped in, and saw a room divided into sections. In each part, a mattress had been thrown down. The sobs were coming from the end one. Slowly, Sofia walked down and stuck her head around the divide. Foxtrot stood up in a flash, wiping her face with her sleeves. “Um, have… you found anything?” she said, voice wobbling. She knew she wasn’t fooling anyone. Sofia walked up to her. Not so long ago, she’d seen nothing but a Railroad agent. Someone to be mistrusted. A dangerous radical. A blind idealist. Now… all she saw was a crying woman about her age, who had been through something terrible. Somehow being here, being where it had all happened… seeing the evidence of the lives that had been disrupted or even ended... it made it all more real. Sofia took another step closer and put her hands on Foxtrot’s shoulders. The agent simply stood there for a moment, whether shocked or disapproving Sofia couldn’t tell, before reaching up and awkwardly patting her hand.

“For what it’s worth… I’m sorry,” Sofia said, pulling back. “I know… a bit about what it’s like.” Foxtrot nodded, looking upwards as she wiped at her eyes and sniffed.

“No, I’m sorry for - falling apart like this.” she replied. “You’re here because of me,” Sofia said.

“Well, if it was being in here or getting eaten by a Behemoth...” Foxtrot said, laughing in the shaky, desperate way of those who want to ignore despair. Then she winced as if in pain, and rolled her shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“This? No, it’s - well. It’s an old injury, from… when we left this place,” Foxtrot said.

“Oh. I’m sorry…. We should get going as soon as possible.”

“That, I can agree on,” Foxtrot said. Sofia felt some kind of trust pass between them. However, she was still surprised when Foxtrot placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks, Sofia. I… was wrong about you.”

“And I was wrong about you,” Sofia replied. They stood in silence for a moment. “Do you know what any of these papers mean?”

“If they weren’t burnt, taken by the Institute or recovered by our agents, I doubt they’re that important,” Foxtrot said, taking them with a last sniff and scanning them. “Yeah, this looks like supplies information for safehouses to me.” There was a slight catch in her voice as she said ‘safehouses’. “I think anything about you would’ve been destroyed when they left Bolthole behind. From what I’ve heard, it was a pretty narrow thing. They got lucky.”

“That doesn’t sound very lucky,” Sofia said, face creased with concern. It was almost… confusing, this change in feeling. She knew how scary trusting people could be, and now Foxtrot was opening up to her… with very little reason to _,_ Sofia realised. A few hours ago, she’d thrown her against a wall.

“In our line of work, escaping with an hour to spare before the Institute showed up _is_ lucky. Getting unlucky is… what happened here,” Foxtrot said, looking around. Tears threatened to well up in her eyes again.

“Oh.” Of course. _They really did fight the Institute, didn’t they? It’s just nobody saw it, or wanted to acknowledge it, because… they did it by helping synths._ As they walked back out into the main work area, Sofia felt herself teetering on the edge of crisis again when she thought about being a synth. What if everything she’d thought about herself was… wrong? Having a damaged and patchy memory was one thing, but that her existence, her humanity, could just be _made up…_ she needed proof, she needed certainty. She couldn’t go on living in doubt like this.

 _Is it doubt? Or denial?_ She pushed the thought down.

“Foxtrot, we - are you alright?” Haz came down the stairs all business, but it melted away as he saw Foxtrot’s red-rimmed eyes.

“I mean - not really,” she replied. Sofia at least admired her honesty in that respect.

“The terminal’s got nothing,” Haz said. He put a hand on Foxtrot’s shoulder. “Please, allow me to apologise. We’ve dragged you here, somewhere which contains horrible memories for you, and we haven’t even uncovered anything.”

“I’m.... not sure. It might have been time I visited here, anyway. Put it all to bed, you know?” Foxtrot murmured, looking around. Haz nodded, and his hand fell from her shoulder.

“Well, we’re a team now. We’ve got to look out for each other.”

“You are helping. And I’m sorry if it seems like I don’t appreciate that,” Sofia said.

“Yeah. It’s okay. What now?” Foxtrot glanced between them.

“Tell me… do you know if there’s a ham radio in this place?” Haz said.

 

“Found something!” Sofia called from an adjacent room. A beaten-up ham radio lay fallen behind a desk. She hefted it up as Haz and Foxtrot joined her. “It’s a ham radio alright, but I don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Let’s take it out into the main room and take a look,” Foxtrot said, and they headed back out into the corridors.

“Do you want me to carry that?” Haz offered, so Sofia handed him the microphone. She smiled sweetly.

“I’m alright, thank you.”

“This microphone looks busted,” Haz said, turning it over in his hands.

“I’ll go and get some tools. Be back in a moment,” Foxtrot said, disappearing down the corridor. Haz and Sofia reached the main control room, and put the radio down on the desk. Sofia took the microphone from Haz and rattled it.

“Hmm. Something does sound wrong.”

“How can you tell?” Haz looked at her in amazement. She raised her eyebrows. “I’m just full of surprises.” When he sighed in mock frustration, she gave in. “Okay, fine. You really think I got into my line of work without knowing how to fix a microphone?”

“That… does make sense now that I think about it.” Haz fiddled with the radio.

“Hmm?” Foxtrot reappeared, holding a large red toolbox. “What’s it looking like?”

“Not too great.” Haz flicked the switch to the radio. It crackled, buzzed, and promptly stopped again.

“The Behemoth could be right outside. We at least need some confirmation of when it’s safe for us to leave. At best, we need a dozen Minutemen and a few Gauss rifles coming in to clear it out,” Foxtrot said.

“Which means we need the radio,” Sofia said. “I should be able to fix the microphone.” She selected a screwdriver from the toolbox and got to work opening it up.

“I can probably fix the radio. There’s another one here we can cannibalise if we need to,” Foxtrot said, glancing to the coffee table, upon which a radio did indeed sit.

“I didn’t know you could do that kind of thing,” Sofia said. Foxtrot shrugged. “Radios are important when you work in intel. I’m no expert but I can keep ‘em running.”

“What should I do?” Haz said. He looked a bit deflated, and Sofia sympathised. “Try and find us a power source, or a way of rigging this up so it’ll run long enough for us to get the message out.”

“Understood,” Haz said. “I’ll see if there’s anything with a surviving battery around…”

He wandered off. Foxtrot drew up a chair, took a screwdriver, and got to work.


	18. Foxtrot - Laid to Rest

Foxtrot screwed the back panel of the radio back in place. “Should be good to go. I don’t know if that battery you found is gonna blow the whole thing out, or not be enough, but in any case it’s our best shot,” she said. “You wanna do the honours?”

“Thanks,” Haz said, taking a seat. He turned the dials on the radio to tune it to Starlight City’s shortwave frequency. The old pre-war relay towers were a blessing for communications. “Is anyone there? Come in Starlight City. Hello?” A silence filled with crackling, then-

“Hello? Who’s broadcasting - this is the Minuteman frequency?” the three of them shared a moment of triumph and relief as a tinny female voice filtered through.

“Starlight City, this is Lieutenant Haz - er, Harry Stewart. We need your help. There’s a Behemoth in the Lexington area.”

“A Behemoth?! Lieutenant, where are you? Are you in immediate danger?”

“No, I’m with two others, we’re in the, uh, basement of a Slocum’s Joe; just north-west of Lexington. We’ve got no visuals on the Behemoth and it nearly got us on our way in here.”

“Do you have supplies?” At this, Haz glanced at the others, who nodded. Foxtrot knew there might be a few caches left in the building, too.

“Yes, we have supplies.”

“Stay put. I’ll get word to Sanctuary and Radio Freedom, but it might need to wait until morning. Can you keep this radio on?” Of course. It was the middle of the night. Detached from the outside, it was easy to lose track. Haz glanced at Foxtrot. She shrugged, but nodded.

“It looks stable enough,” she whispered. “These batteries are meant to last a while, and if it was going to blow it would’ve done it already.”

“We think so, but this thing was pretty busted up. We’re not in danger, so if we short out, assume it’s because our power source is gone,” Haz replied.

“Understood. I’ll get a task force sent out, and we’ll notify you on this frequency when it’s safe to come out. You said you were in a Slocum’s Joe?”

“Yes. North-west corner of Lexington. I’d like to join the fight, if possible.”

“We’ll bear that in mind. Signing off to get your message out, Lieutenant. Over.” The radio went quiet, just static once more.

“How much longer are we going to be stuck here, then?” Foxtrot asked, getting up and starting to pace once more. The radio had been a blessing, something to work on to take her mind off where she was - now it was difficult to keep it all back. Her shoulder kept twinging, to the point it was becoming a dull ache in the background.

“I don’t know. Like she said, it’s night time, so they probably have to wait until morning,” Haz replied. “Trying to take out a Behemoth in the dark doesn’t sound like a good plan. And this is coming from _me.”_

“Huh. I guess so, yeah,” Foxtrot said. It was sometimes easy to forget not every organisation kept hours as strange as the Railroad’s. Inverted sleep schedules, kipping in two blocks of four hours either side of a mission, just staying up until four in the morning writing reports or talking because why not… she’d done it all. “So what, we just sit around and wait?”

“You should get some sleep,” Haz said, looking at her and Sofia.

“Like hell I’m getting any sleep here,” Foxtrot muttered. Sofia, sat next to her on the sofa, put a hand on her arm.

“At least get some rest, even if it’s not sleep,” she said.

“You and Haz might as well rest. I'll stay up; I promise not to keep pacing around.”

“Fine,” Haz said after a moment's hesitation. He got up out of the desk chair and slouched in the armchair across the room from Sofia. Sofia herself lay down on the sofa.

“Night,” Foxtrot said.

“Night,” they replied, closing their eyes. She fished inside her jacket for her notebook, grateful as all hell the raiders hadn’t found it - or if they had, they hadn’t bothered taking it, since it was doubtful they could read anyway. It was a battered old thing, its original pages long full, bulked out with whatever scrappy pieces she could find and held together with string, glue and hope. Inside was written all her notes, her intel, and crammed in the back a small map of the area - anything that needed remembering, but not so sensitive it couldn’t be written down. There were also other things, personal scrawlings and drawings, things she wouldn’t dream of showing anyone. Fishing in her pockets, she found a pencil - getting short now - and started writing.

 

_Tommy Whispers - I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m sorry it was you who had to burn the papers, and protect the prototype. He’d never admit it, but Carrington feels terrible about that. I can see it in his eyes sometimes. I’ll always remember the crinkles around your eyes every time you smiled at me when I brought you intel and reports. I’ll remember that time you were teaching me some stealth tips and we jumped out on Deacon together. I’ll remember the beers, and those gumdrops, and ‘’it’s that kind of day!’’, and everything else. I’ll remember._

_Sly Nicholas - I’m sorry, Sly. I’m sorry we ran, I’m sorry even though it was you screaming at us to run. I’m sorry you barely had any weapons to use against the Institute; you were just intel, like me. I’ll remember meeting you when I first joined HQ, I’ll remember you guiding me on how to gather intel. I’ll remember that little cover assignment in Diamond City, the incident with that guard, and eating noodles at midnight. I’ll remember your rivalry with Deacon, and how annoyed you were when your sunglasses broke. I’ll remember all our jokes, like ‘horses’ and singing radroaches and pretending Deacon wasn’t real. I’ll remember._

_Beatrice Bell - I’m sorry, Bea. I’m sorry you were even there, it’s not like you even worked at HQ normally, you shouldn’t have been there. You should still be alive. But instead, you’re gone and I’m still here even though I was an HQ agent -_

-something splashed onto the page, and Foxtrot wiped away the tear, smudging the pencil a tiny bit -

_-and I’m sorry. I’ll remember when I helped you out with that run, how you were stressed out of your mind about the job and I just happened to have the exact intel you needed. I’ll remember giving you the first coffee you’d ever tasted, and watching the sunrise whilst we smoked outside the safehouse. I’ll remember._

_Mr Mathers - I’m sorry, Mr M. I’m sorry you ended up on the front lines in a battle you were never cut out for. You weren’t a heavy. I’m sorry you had to fight, I’m sorry you had to_ die. _I’ll remember your disguises, always trying to be better than Deacon, and I’ll remember your trade links. I’ll remember that incredible alter-ego you had built up, reading for intel-gathering any time you wanted. I’ll remember that time Des nearly pulled a gun on you because you’d shaved and she didn’t recognise you. I’ll remember all the little gifts you’d try and bring people from your trips; I hope you know I’ve still got the stub of that pencil you gave me. I’ll remember._

Foxtrot reached up briefly, scrubbing away more tears and letting her hand drift beneath her shirt where a grubby string of cotton rested, strung with objects whose significance she wouldn’t ever attempt to explain. Her fingers lingered on a pencil stub.

_Ms Boom - I’m sorry, Boom-girl. I know you always said you wanted to go out with a bang, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry that after all that fighting you still went down. I’ll remember your lab, the smell of metal and gunpowder there, and the way you’d lift up your goggles and it’d leave white circles around your eyes in the soot and dirt on your face. I’ll remember how well everyone said you ‘cleaned up’. I’ll remember your story about how you lost that finger to a frag explosion in a fight against Raiders. I’ll remember._

_Francis O’Dell - I’m sorry, Franc. Just like Bea, you never should’ve been at the Switchboard anyway. You were a runner, hardly more than a tourist. I’m sorry you joined us when you did, I’m sorry you paid that price. I’m sorry you left behind those friends and family you spoke about. I’ll remember your laugh, all quiet and deep, and how you could do such great impressions of people. I’ll remember the intel run we did, me, you and Sly, all staying back in Goodneighbor together. I’ll remember those names you’d mention - Natalie, Chris, Danny - and I hope one day we can tell them why you never came back. I’ll remember._

_Songbird - I’m sorry, Songbird. I’m sorry you were left on the front lines with only your turrets. I’m sorry you didn’t have more warning, more weapons, more resources. I’m sorry we couldn’t defend the Switchboard, and you. I’ll remember your songs, how you’d sing along to the radio or just solo whilst you worked on turrets and guns for us. I’ll remember how it surprised newbies - and me at first - hearing such a lovely voice from such a gruff-looking person. I’ll remember how you’d tap out rhythms on your workbench with spanners and screwdrivers. I’ll remember._

_Kelly K - I’m sorry, Kelly. I’m sorry you died just when you were thinking of stepping back from the Railroad. I’m sorry you couldn’t live out the rest of your time in one of the cities, or on a farm somewhere. I’ll remember how great your cooking was, even with the worst ingredients, how you’d get compliments for it from everyone. I’ll remember your steady aim and your patience, and my assignment with you once I decided to go into sniping as well. I’ll remember target practice with cans in the escape tunnel. I’ll remember._

_Maven - I’m sorry, Maven. I’m sorry that the Institute got to the turrets, I’m sorry you must’ve died feeling so confused. I’m sorry all you could do was hide that cache. I’m sorry you were in HQ when it all went down instead of planting caches and drawing railsign. I’ll remember your amazing clapbacks, and how sarcastic you were. I’ll remember the little top-ups of supplies and ammo you gave us sometimes. I know I didn’t know you that well, but I’ll remember._

_Roger - I’m sorry, Roger. I’m sorry you died leaving that danger railsign, a sign you’d only just learnt. I’m sorry you were so new to the Railroad when it happened. I’m sorry I barely knew you. But I’ll remember the dead-drops you’d leave when you were a tourist - I collected a lot of them, you know - in that careful handwriting of yours. I wonder where you learnt to write. I’ll remember how you’d always write ‘roger that’ to show you’d understood an order. I’ll remember._

She stopped writing, wiping her face with her sleeves and trying to stay silent for fear of waking up Haz and Sofia. She didn’t know if she felt better or worse for having written it all. It had all come back to her, every name, every face, but at the same time it felt as if she’d somehow laid a burden down. Maybe one day she’d get to go to where they were buried and say these words out in the open air. Maybe one day. But now she just felt so _tired…_

 

…Foxtrot awoke with a violent jolt, slamming her elbow into the stomach of whoever had just touched her shoulder. A moment later she came to her senses and saw Haz doubled over, groaning.

“Remind me not to - sneak up on you - agh, shit-” he said.

“Fuck, Haz, oh my god - I’m so sorry,” she said, standing up and putting a hand on his shoulder. He straightened up, wincing.

“Jesus. Those are some instincts you’ve got there.”

“Is everything alright?” came Sofia’s sleepy voice.

“Yeah, it’s all good,” Haz said. “Just a minor rib fracture, I’m sure.” Upon seeing their horrified faces, he managed a grin. “I’m joking, don’t worry.” Foxtrot rubbed her eyes, hoping they weren’t too red, and quickly shuffled up the papers spread out on the desk in front of her, cramming them back into her notebook and tying it up again.

“God. How long was I out?” she asked.

“I have no idea. I’ve not been up that long.”

“That was so unprofessional of me… sorry,” Foxtrot said, feeling herself flush.

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t think we slept for ages.”

“It doesn’t _feel_ like very long,” Sofia said, sitting up and yawning. Almost on cue, the radio crackled into life, making Foxtrot jump.

“Hello? Lieutenant, are you there?” A man’s voice, sincere and serious.

“Colonel Garvey, sir?” Haz leant forwards and took the microphone.

“Holy shit, that’s Preston Garvey?” The Last Minuteman himself. A few of the agents had met him, but she’d never had the pleasure. Most of her dealings concerned the Castle, rather than Sanctuary, where he was usually based. Her voice must’ve got through the microphone, because there was a hint of a laugh in the Colonel’s voice as he replied. “Yes, this is Colonel Garvey. We’ve got visuals on the Behemoth, it’s further into Lexington. If you come out of that Slocum’s Joe, you should be fine.”

“Roger that, sir. We’ll get moving right away,”

“We’ve got two teams ready to engage. Head west when you come out and you’ll find ours up on the hill. We’ll be waiting.”

“Understood, sir. Over and out,” Haz said, waiting a moment more before killing the radio.

“Let’s move,” Foxtrot said, grabbing Lady and slinging it over her back, along with her bag. She didn’t need telling twice. However, as Haz gathered up his things, he looked at her with concern.

“Are you… alright?”

“Me? Fine, let’s get moving.”

“Again… I’m sorry we brought you here,” Sofia said.

“If you want to talk about it at any point-” Haz began, but Foxtrot cut him of as she checked her guns, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t.” It sounded a bit harsher than she’d intended, so she added: “But thanks for the offer, I guess. Let’s just get out of here.”

“Roger that.” Haz said with a nod.

Foxtrot ignored the pang of pain it brought her.

 

An unnerving roar shook the area once more as the trio made it to the top of the hill, illuminated by the rising sun. A group of five Minutemen stood there, including one in Power Armour, and one in full trademark Minuteman dress- Colonel Garvey himself. He clapped Haz on the shoulder as they met, and shook the hands of Foxtrot and Sofia with endearing formality, considering they were all about to go and fight a fifteen-foot tall beast together.

“When Haz said he was with two others, I sort of thought he meant civilians. But you… look like you can handle yourselves,” he said. Foxtrot exchanged a glance with Sofia, and smiled.

“If you need sniper cover, I can get up on one of those buildings no problem,” she replied. Sofia nodded, too.

“I can help too. The bow is best used long-range.”

“A bow, huh?” the Colonel looked surprised, but not apprehensive. “Well, if you two want to head up there, that’s great.” He pressed a button on his radio-like device and spoke into it. “General, we’ve going to have sniper cover from the west, too. Once they’re in position we should start the attack, over,” he said. A pause, then true enough, Diana Ridley’s voice filtered back through.

“I _knew_ it’d be those two- ahem. Roger that, we’re ready when you are. Over.”

“Okay. If you two can get up on that Slocum’s Joe -” Preston stopped with a wince as the thing roared again - “You should be able to see it. Send up this to signal the attack,” he held out a flare gun. Foxtrot took it and stuck it into her belt. She looked at Sofia, a grin emerging on her face - equal parts elation at finally being out of the Switchboard and adrenaline at the upcoming mission. She felt as if by going back into the Switchboard and making it out once more, maybe she’d left something behind in there. Some of the sorrow.

Sofia paused for a moment to kiss Haz, causing a couple of the Minutemen in the group to cheer and whoop, before she and Foxtrot headed back down the hill. The partial collapse caused by the Behemoth had actually made it easier to climb. Foxtrot offered Sofia a hand, hauling her up. They dusted themselves off, and looked out. There it was. The big, ugly bastard.

“Let’s take this thing down, shall we?” Foxtrot said. She glanced around one more time, then fired the flare. The Behemoth looked towards it, but then its attention was drawn elsewhere - a person was visible, small from so far away, but the stature and bright red Power Armour was a dead giveaway. General Ridley hoisted her rocket launcher and sighted. A moment later an explosion battered the beast. Foxtrot cocked her rifle, and saw Sofia knock an arrow. Time to do this.


	19. Haz - The Beast

Haz grinned as he charged forwards.

“STAY AT LONG RANGE AND KEEP FIRING! HIT IT WITH EVERYTHING YOU HAVE!” Colonel Garvey shouted, backing up against a building. Haz saw the bolt of red light, heard the unmistakable _vwhoom_ of the laser musket. The shot lanced out from Garvey’s gun and struck the Behemoth in the head; the Colonel was well known as a master marksman. Haz cranked up his own musket, adding his quick one-shot lasers to the spray already peppering the beast.

“WATCH OUT FOR THE ROCKS!” he heard the General yell, and saw a huge hunk of rubble go flying across the plaza towards her and another Power Armour-clad Minuteman.

“ _General!”_ Colonel Garvey yelled. “Hold positions here, I’m moving across! Haz, with me!” He ran out from behind their cover and across the plaza as the Behemoth swung its bat towards the cloud of clearing dust where it had thrown the rock. Haz grinned, seeing what Garvey was doing, and peppered the monster with a few shots of his own. It roared, then roared louder as an arrow whistled overhead and stuck into the back of its neck. Haz cranked his head around and caught a glimpse of Sofia and Foxtrot perched on the Slocum’s Joe. Sofia gave him a quick thumbs up, Foxtrot taking a shot by her side. Haz ran faster, diving into cover as the Behemoth charged towards himself and the Colonel. The bat smashed into the side of the building and Haz swore, scrambling back as rubble fell from above. However, the constant fire from all sides was confusing the beast, and it was visibly wounded. “GENERAL? David?” Garvey bellowed across the plaza. Faintly, the General was heard.

“HERE, GARVEY!” Haz saw the relief break across Colonel Garvey’s face.

“We’re wearing it down, sir!” Haz said, cranking and firing as fast as he could load in his fusion cells. Roaring in pain and anger, the Behemoth picked up another hunk of concrete and hurled it - this time at the building the two snipers were on.

“SOFIA!” Haz bellowed. He couldn’t see it from his position, just heard the terrible _crash_ and clatter of falling concrete. Without thinking, he charged out into the plaza, ducking a swing from the bat and unloading as many fusion cells as he could into the thing’s legs.

“Lieutenant!” he heard the Colonel yell, but he wasn’t listening. He looked up at the clearing dust cloud, hoping, fearing - _there!_ At the edge of the roof, he saw a hooded figure - Foxtrot! - leap to the fire escape on the next building along, and stretch out a hand- “HAZ!” Garvey’s shout was just in time. Haz ducked a swing from the bat, dodged a fist the size of a boulder, and skidded underneath the mutant’s legs, scrambling up on the other side and leaping into the alleyway the General and another Minuteman, David, were in.

“That was some stunt!” the General said as he entered. A bullet in the Behemoth’s head, it seemed from Foxtrot and her sniper rifle, made it roar and turn around, but its movements were sloppier, slower. “It’s on its last legs. GRENADE OUT!” Ridley yelled, pulling the pin and tossing the explosive. It skittered along the ground, exploding just short of the monster. It roared in pain as the blast hit it and peppered it with shrapnel, but it was still alive. Just. The arrows, bullets and lasers were taking their toll.

“OKAY, EVERYONE WITH EXPLOSIVES - GET THEM OUT! GET READY!” he heard Garvey yell, and saw Diana and David ready another grenade. Haz cursed himself; he didn’t have any. “NOW!” He saw half a dozen grenades fly into the centre of the area, and covered his ears.

A moment later, the explosion rumbled into silence.

A moment after that, the cheers started. The Minutemen wandered from their cover, grinning and clapping each other on the back. Diana went to do so to Haz, but realised she was in Power Armour and stopped herself, settling on a thumbs up. Walking into the centre, where the mangled mess of Behemoth lay, she pulled off her helmet, wiping her sweaty hair from her brow.

“Nice call, Preston!” she yelled as Garvey and the other Minutemen, still grinning and cheering, joined up. “Damn well lead.” The Colonel smiled and gave her a sloppy, informal salute.

“Thanks, General,” he said, then turned to Haz. “Lieutenant, that was _crazy_ of you. You could’ve been killed.”

“Sorry, sir,” Haz said, glancing at his feet. However, he looked up again as he felt a hand on his shoulder. It belonged to Colonel Garvey.

“Hey. It was damn cool, though,” he added with a smile, and Haz felt a grin of his own light up his face. A moment later, he jumped as he felt something crash into him from behind. Sofia. A moment later she let go and grinned at Haz.

“I saw what you did! You were amazing!” she said. Foxtrot appeared, a rare true smile on her face. She seemed bemused as a few Minutemen surrounded her, giving her pats on the back and asking her questions.

“You were too,” Haz replied, brushing her face gently. She kissed him, quickly, standing on her tiptoes, then blushed as a number of Minutemen cheered.

“Hey, thanks for the help,” Colonel Garvey said, approaching. “I, uh, never asked your name properly.”

“Sofia,” she replied with a smile. “And you’re Preston Garvey, aren’t you? I’ve heard a lot,”

“Oh, uh. Well-”

“All good things,” Sofia said. Haz grinned. He couldn’t help it, she was too sweet, too sincere. Garvey was never quite sure how to react. This time, he was saved by the General stomping over, Foxtrot close behind.

“You guys - I mean Sofia, Haz and Foxtrot really - are going back to Starlight. That’s not a suggestion,” the General said, grinning. “I mean, how much sleep did you guys get?”

“Uh…” Haz grunted. Sofia and Foxtrot gave similarly non-committal answers.

“I knew it. Come on, we’re done here. Though we may take a group picture once we’re back at base. Come see us in Sanctuary soon, yeah?”

The Minutemen - and the taggers-on - gradually gathered up (Sofia having collected her arrows) and fell into step, some walking back to Starlight, some to Sanctuary.

 

When they arrived at Starlight City, there was a gaggle of people at the gates. When it turned out they had indeed slain a Behemoth, there was applause and scattered cheers, offers of drinks, and the Minutemen - with the inclusion by default of Sofia and Foxtrot - had food and other small gifts pressed into their hands. They were then directed to one of the old, gutted buses which made up parts of the town’s impressive walls - the seats had been removed and there were sleeping bags inside; it was a quiet space to rest for the weary trio.

Foxtrot slumped down as soon as she entered, and started tucking into the mutfruit she’d been given.

“Do you guys always get freebies like this?” she asked, through her mouthful of juice. Haz chuckled.

“Usually. We don’t exactly get paid on the regular, so the whole thing sort of runs on favours and goodwill. It’s really nice,” he said. Foxtrot raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, alright for some,” she said, but not in bad humour. Haz felt a pang of sympathy. It wasn’t as if Railroad agents ever received applause or free food, after all - although he knew the Minutemen secretly shared supplies with them whenever they could.

“Am I really the only one here with an actual income?” Sofia said, smiling a little as she cracked open a Nuka-Cola she’d been given and taking a swig. “Sure looks like it,” Haz replied. “You certainly do a good job,” he said, leaning over and giving her a kiss.

“Assuming I still have one after this. I can’t imagine Vadim’s very happy with me. I said I’d be gone for four days maximum,” Sofia said.

“Oh, the General sent a runner down to Diamond City to update him on the situation, or told Mister Valentine to, or something,” Haz said. Sofia jolted and coughed on her drink.

“The _situation?”_ she said.

“Oh, I don’t mean they included that you’re - that you might be - a _synth._ Just the whole, well, kidnapping situation, and that it might take you a while to get back,” Haz said, and Sofia relaxed. “I think she can ensure Vadim doesn’t fire you or anything. He owes her a few favours. _More_ than a few, from what I’ve heard.”

“I can’t believe I’d just made it in Diamond City and this all happened,” she said with a sigh, leaning her head on Haz’s shoulder. Haz thought he _might_ have seen Foxtrot roll her eyes, but he couldn’t be sure.

“You’ll be back soon enough. With plenty of stories to turn into songs,” Haz said.

“Speaking of which, what are we doing next?” Foxtrot asked, looking up from the papers she’d pulled out. “There’s nothing in anything from the Switchboard.” There was a silence where the three occupants of the empty bus looked at each other. Haz shrugged and looked back to Foxtrot.

“I… sort of thought that kind planning was why we had you,” he said. Foxtrot rolled her eyes, finishing off her mutfruit.

“Fine, let me think… I mean, I’d suggest finding some people who’d know, but that’s not really going to be much of an option… we barely keep records, like I said…” she broke off muttering to herself. “Give me some time to sit on it, and if you come up with any more ideas then run them by me. For now… I’m gonna get some rest,” she said, lying down on a sleeping bag. Haz looked to Sofia.

“Probably a good idea,” she said.

“Amen to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As previously mentioned, I seriously toughened up the Behemoths compared to the in-game ones, for the sake of telling a good story and because I feel like realistically, a 15+ft tall hulking beast tossing boulders and smacking stuff with a bat THAT size would be a pretty formidable threat. Plus I like thinking that regular bullets do little to nothing against them due to their thick hide and bones.


	20. Sofia - Still Awake

That evening, the three of them returned to the bus with the events of the past thirty-six hours pleasantly hazed with a bit of alcohol - on the house, no less. However, it didn’t stop Sofia lying awake and thinking about it all. That she might be a synth. The Switchboard. What had happened there. The awful, heart-stopping moment when she had realised that Foxtrot was reciting the names of dead people. Dead _friends._

Sofia knew that feeling all too well.

Haz rolled over, and saw her with her eyes open.

“Hey. Are you still awake?” he murmured.

“We all are. We messed up our rhythms by going to sleep earlier,” Foxtrot’s voice came from the other end of the bus. Sofia sat up, followed by Haz, and felt for some matches. A moment later the lantern they had been given flared to life, lending the interior of the bus a faint but cosy glow. There was a comfortable silence for a while. Sofia enjoyed it; most of the silences amongst the three of them had so far been awkward or tense. There was a rustle from Foxtrot’s end of the bus, and a quiet crunching.

“Foxtrot… what are you doing?” Haz said. The crunching stopped.

“... Eating,” Foxtrot said, around a mouthful of something.

“Eating _what_? It’s god-knows-what o’ clock!” Haz said.

“Sugar Bombs,” Foxtrot admitted after a pause. Sofia facepalmed.

“You were the one accusing us of messing up our rhythms.”

“Hey, I’m with the Railroad. My biorhythms have been fucked since day one. Hell, probably before that,” she said, shovelling another mouthful. “Anyway, I know it’s bad to drink on an empty stomach.” There was a swigging sound, and Sofia assumed she was enjoying some more of the whiskey that she’d picked up at the bar. It was curious to see the agent unwind in her own way.

“...Can I have some? Sugar Bombs, I mean,” Sofia asked, expecting the answer ‘no’. She was surprised when the box came sliding towards her without a word. “I haven’t had them since arriving in Diamond City.”

“They’re a pretty rare treat down at the Castle. You can take a wild guess as to what we eat most of the time,” Haz said. Foxtrot chuckled.

“Carrots and corn?”

“Got it in one,” Haz said.

“What?” Sofia looked from one to the other. “There’s something I’m missing here.”

“Oh my god, you don’t know carrots and corn?” Haz said. “Of course, I guess you’ve always lived in cities in the Commonwealth… basically, sure, all farms grow a variety of things. But most Minuteman settlements around grow a _lot_ of carrots and corn. They’re fast growing, tough, and don’t take up much space, so you can farm a lot of them.”

“So if you turn up at a Minuteman settlement… you’re gonna be eating carrots and stuff made of corn,” Foxtrot said.

“Mm, not much of that came through to Goodneighbor, and in Diamond City they have their own farms, so-” Sofia said, deliberately steering the conversation away from a point it could go into her past on the farm outside the Commonwealth. However, Foxtrot cut her off.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa - _you_ lived in _Goodneighbor?_ Wait, of course, it was in that Publick interview you did... _”_

“Yes, I was there for nearly a year,” Sofia replied. “Why are you so surprised?”

“Just didn’t really see you as the Goodneighbor type,” Foxtrot said.

“I’m not, really. I didn’t properly fit in there, but it’s… nice,” Sofia said, for lack of any better word. Describe that town? Impossible.

“Nice? Are you sure that was Goodneighbor you were in?” Haz said with a chuckle.

“Hey. You got a problem with Goodneighbor?” Foxtrot said, a slight edge to her voice.

“It’s a hell of a town. Wouldn’t really call it ‘nice’, though,” Haz replied, grinning. Then he leant forwards. “Why, what’s it to you? I wouldn’t really have pegged you as the Goodneighbor type either.”

“Hah! Try born and raised,” Foxtrot replied. “You think it’s not ‘nice’ now, you should’ve seen it before Mayor Hancock took over,” she said. Sofia and Haz exchanged wide-eyed glances. Foxtrot opening up? Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol. She _had_ drunk a bit more than them.

“I don’t know much about it. When did he take over?” Sofia asked, genuinely curious. Somehow, when she’d been in Goodneighbor, it seemed as if Hancock had _always_ been there. He was like the point the whole town crystallised around.

“A few years ago, not so long after the ghouls got thrown out of Diamond City,” Foxtrot said, more serious now. “When I was growing up there, it was run by a bastard - no, a _monster_ named Vic,” she spat. “Ran the whole town like his own personal gang. Him and his thugs used to bully everyone into doing his dirty work for him, any random drifters who came there cause they didn’t have anywhere else. I still remember him looking at all the ghouls that got kicked out Diamond City back in ‘82, talking about profit. Took caps off vendors, ran protection rackets, forcing people to hand over their supplies, you name it. I had to climb through a few windows and pick a few locks for his guys myself, but I was pretty lucky. They mostly left me alone.”

“That’s awful,” Sofia said quietly.

“Yeah. It was rough. Especially the couple years after my mom… well,” Foxtrot said, sighing heavily. She took another large swig of whiskey.

“Do… you want to keep talking, or not?” Haz asked, his voice low and rough with emotion. Sofia put a hand on his arm, knowing it must be a tough subject for him.

“Hell, I’ve got this far, and I’ll probably regret this in the morning anyway.... It was a long while ago. She OD’ed.”

“Overdosed? Jesus…” Haz said quietly.

“Not so uncommon. A lot of folks in Goodneighbour are just working for their next fix.”

“And she worked…?” Sofia left the question hanging, realising midway through it was perhaps not the most sensitive thing to be asking. Foxtrot just smiled wanly.

“Let’s just say I don’t know who my dad was and leave it at that, hey? I was alright, though. Goodneighbour folks… take care of each other, or at least the real ones do. Hancock? He was one of us the moment he walked in those gates, still all fresh faced. He gave me ten caps once after mom died. Big deal back then; nobody had much money.”

“Fresh faced? You mean he wasn’t a ghoul?” Sofia asked.

“Yeah, it wasn’t until about a year later he got turned. It suits him, somehow. Anyway, when he decided to lead the revolt against Vic… well, everybody in Goodneighbour joined. Least, everybody that’s _still_ in Goodneighbour joined,” Foxtrot said, her dark smile just visible in the gloom.

“You had a part in that? Jesus. I heard it was… bloody,” Haz said.

“Oh, it was. I didn’t _kill_ anyone, not that time, but I picked locks. Waved a torch with the rest of them. Came up with a few plans. They say you’ve gotta be real smart or real tough to survive in Goodneighbor, and I wasn’t exactly tough.”

“So you chose smart,” Sofia said.

“Something like that. That’s why Hancock’s so damn popular. That’s why Goodneighbor people are so… weirdly proud of what our back-alley, double-crossing, drug-filled town is,” she said. “We had to fucking _fight_ for it. Now, it might still be skeevy and drug-filled but there’s nobody waiting in an alley to hold a gun to your head and tell you to pay up. At least, not for _long_ there isn’t.” Haz and Sofia exchanged another stunned glance. Sofia _never_ imagined hearing so much from Foxtrot in one go, and certainly had never pictured her story to be like this.

“So… how did you join the Railroad?” she asked. Foxtrot laughed bitterly.

“Haven’t you guys had enough of my sob stories for tonight?”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, we completely understand. I’m sorry if we overstepped,” Haz said.

“I’ll probably regret telling you all this in the morning anyway. I’m gonna get some air, I think. Hope I didn’t… freak you guys out too much, or whatever,” Foxtrot said, getting up and heading to the door, the bottle still in her hand.

“Hey, Foxtrot, wait,” Sofia said.

“…What?” The agent turned around, silhouetted in the door, and for a moment Sofia was lost for words.

“All three of us, we… know what it’s like to lose family. I just want you to know that you’re brave.”

“Yeah, well.” Foxtrot shrugged, looking at the floor. “I’ve moved on, you know? We all do. Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

“I wasn’t talking about your mom.” Out of the corner of her eye, Sofia saw Haz look at her in surprise.

“What?” Foxtrot turned to face her properly.

“I… I heard you reciting their names. Back… there.”

“Oh.” There was the faintest tremor in Foxtrot’s voice. “Right.”

“And I recognised it because _I’ve_ done that, or near enough. You know my – my village was destroyed by the Institute. As far as I know, everybody who lived there is dead.” There. Now Foxtrot knew for good. Sofia didn’t remember having properly told her, but there it was, out in the open. Maybe even something approaching trust.

“Well… you can’t know that. After all… some of us made it out of the Switchboard. More than I’m sure the Institute wanted.”

“It’s the same with me,” Haz spoke up. “I can’t know who survived that attack on my village. I don’t think anybody did.”

“We’ve really been through some hell, huh?” Foxtrot said, taking another swig of whiskey. “All three of us.”

“That’s… one way of putting it. But there’s nowhere I’d rather be in life than with the Minutemen,” Haz said.

“I get you. The Railroad are all I’ve got.”

“I… I just wanted to be a singer.” Sofia felt a lump rise in her throat. _And now all of that is in jeopardy._ She leant in to Haz’s shoulder, and heard the _clunk_ of the door shut behind Foxtrot as she left.

 

“Sanctuary!” Sofia jolted awake as the door to the bus rattled open, a breathless Foxtrot stumbling in. She looked at Sofia and Haz, her eyes bright. “Of _course_ we need to go to Sanctuary!”

“What? Why? What _time_ is it?” Haz said, rubbing his eyes as he sat up.

“The time’s not important. I’ve been talking and - we need to go to Sanctuary because the Minutemen _have Institute files.”_

“Institute files? How? Why?” Sofia bit her lip.

“Cha- General Ridley scanned the Institute networks and got a bunch of data from them when she broke in! It was vital to the attack on the Institute, and there’s a bunch of other scientific stuff in there, too.”

“Data which could prove if I’m a synth or not?” Sofia said, her voice shaking slightly. She wanted to know, _she did,_ but at the same time she didn’t. What would it mean if she was?

“How come you’ve only just found out about this?” Haz asked.

“I didn’t know it was in Sanctuary, and to be honest, I didn’t even know if we still had that data. It’s pretty classified.”

“Well… they’ll let us see it, right?” Sofia said.

“I don’t know, but it’s our best shot,” Foxtrot said. “We have to go to Sanctuary first thing this morning.”

“I can hear birds singing. I think it might nearly _be_ morning,” Haz said.

“Well… after a couple more hours of sleep, then,” Foxtrot said, slumping back down on her sleeping bag.

“Will the Minutemen just hand over that kind of information?” Sofia said nervously. Now that the time was actually nearing that she might find out who - or what - she was, she was scared. She wanted to delay it.

“They will to me,” Foxtrot said.

“The General knows what your situation is. She’ll help,” Haz said. Sofia appreciated the rather less confident and rather more reassuring tone to his voice.

“Well… we definitely need to go up there. But not now,” Sofia said.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Haz said. “Sounds like we’ll all need our strength. Best get some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole 'carrots and corn' thing is actually taken from my own save files. I do plant other stuff (I like the look of tatos) but truth is carrots and corn just seem the most efficient, and I like the idea of it being like... a Commonwealth meme. Oh, what's this bread made of? Cornflour. Wow, a barbecue? Nice, what's on it? Corn on the cob.   
> I'm gonna be updating like crazy because I actually wrote a Christmas short about Haz and Sofia as a gift to the friends who helped come up with them and I'd like to post it here too!


	21. Foxtrot - Dangerous Friendship

It was mid-morning when the trio arrived in Sanctuary, cresting the hill and passing over the bridge. Guards manned posts at the entrance, who tipped their hats as they opened the gate. After being directed to Colonel Garvey, they found him supervising what looked like new recruits on the firing range, out the back of the armoury. One of them - _ex-raider, I’d bet my rifle on it -_ looked up and waved at Haz when she saw him, and Foxtrot recognised her as the recruit that had seen her at the Shamrock Taphouse.

“Lieutenant!” she called.

“Rissie! Hey!” Haz called back, a grin on his face. Garvey turned around, recognition and a smile dawning on his face as he saw the three of them.

“Hey, Lieutenant. Miss Sofia. Miss Foxtrot,” he said, giving them a nod.

“Colonel, can I speak to you for a moment?” Foxtrot said, gesturing away from the line. Haz and Sofia seemed only too happy to stop and chat with the recruit as she lead Garvey around the corner of one of the houses.

“What is it?” he asked after a moment.

“Uh… do you have a Geiger counter?” Foxtrot asked. _If he’s not in on the Railroad sign, I’m gonna look like a lunatic…_ However, he nodded. Evidently the General had brought him on board. Smart woman.

“Mine is in the shop. What do you need?” Garvey asked, all business.

“Discretion, first of all. This is a very… delicate job. I need to access the files you pulled from the Institute.”

“The Institute’s files? What do you want with those?”

“I need proof if Sofia over there is a synth,” Foxtrot whispered, and Preston’s eyes went wide.

“Oh, damn. She’s a synth?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out. It sure looks that way, but she won’t believe it without ‘concrete proof’,” Foxtrot explained.

“I hope she’s alright. That kind of realisation can’t be easy on anybody,” the Colonel said, looking concerned.

“Yeah, I think she’s still in denial. It’s why we’re running around the Commonwealth looking for some definitive answers. Since apparently the word of the Railroad isn’t good enough…” she muttered. Garvey scratched his head, repositioning his hat.

“Look, I don’t think we kept that data. The General and I thought it was too dangerous if it got into the wrong hands. She already knew she made a mistake giving it to the Brotherhood,”

“Yeah, well. We took care of that one.” The Railroad had designed the deadly computer virus that had taken down the Prydwen’s servers for twenty four hours, allowing Charmer to delete all of their data on the identities of synths. In the end they were able to put it down to Institute encryptions and self destruct protocols. “Wait, so - you’re saying it’s all gone?”

“I’m not really sure, to be honest. You’d need to speak to Sturges about that. He took care of the technical side of things,” Garvey explained.

“Okay… where is he?”

“Generally if you follow the sound of tools at work you’ll find him,” Garvey said, smiling. “But I’ll help you look.”

“What’s going on?” Haz appeared, Sofia by his side.

“We’re going to find a guy named Sturges, to see if the Institute’s data on synths is still, uh, available.”

“It might be _gone?”_ Sofia said, struggling to keep her voice down.

“It’s dangerous information and I can see why they’d delete it - it already ruined the life of one guy when the Brotherhood got their hands on it!” Foxtrot replied. “Anyway, we don’t even know if it’s gone.”

“Sturges is definitely the man to see,” Haz agreed.

 

“Oh, good. Can someone pass me the little screwdriver?”

“Uh. Sure,” Foxtrot darted forwards and handed the man the smallest screwdriver she could see. They’d found Sturges, the Minuteman’s fix-it guy, handyman and all-round technician, with his head in a stove.

“Aw, heck, this ain’t the one I meant!” complained the voice from within. Sturges pulled his head out and straightened up, blinking. He was covered in soot and innumerable other types of miscellaneous dirt, and built like a brick, but Foxtrot took an instant, instinctive liking to his face. She knew in the logical part of her brain - the part which kept her alive - that nice faces did not mean nice people. But this guy was a Minuteman, so the chances were good he was also a nice person. “Oh, hey. Sorry, didn’t see y’all there,” he said, scrubbing at a mark on his cheek and only succeeding in making it worse.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Preston said, but Sturges just grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.

“You? Interrupt? Never, buddy. Good to see you, Haz. And how d’you do, I’m Sturges,” he said, giving a smile to Sofia and Foxtrot. Sofia grinned and waved. Foxtrot settled for a simple nod.

“Foxtrot.”

“I’m Sofia.”

“Hey, are you the singer up from Diamond City? I’ve heard some good things,” Sturges said.

“Yes, that’s me,” Sofia said with a smile.

“Good to meet y’all. What can I help with today?”

“We need the Institute data, Sturges,” Garvey said. Sturges’ face went from happy to concerned in an instant.

“The Institute data? Now what do y’all want to go picking through that for? Usually only the few eggheads we got around here want anything to do with it.”

“I - “ Sofia started to speak, then cut herself off, looking worried.

“It’s alright. I sort of know, and I’d trust Sturges here with my life,” Garvey said, lightly putting a hand on her shoulder. She smiled up at him, then continued.

“I might be a synth. But I need to know for sure. And I know that information was among the stuff that was pulled from the Institute,” Sofia said.

“Heck. I’m sorry you’re going through that,” Sturges said, quiet and serious for a moment. He scratched his head. “Now, I know we sorta got rid of that info, but not properly. It’s all in the banks somewhere, but me ‘n’ some of the scientists scrambled it all up, just in case people wanted to get their hands on it for the _wrong_ reasons.”

“Can you get it back, then?”

“We-e-ell…. I don’t rightly know,” Sturges said. “I managed to get the hang of enough computer stuff to get us through the Institute, but I think what we did to that data’s beyond me. Least, it’ll take a while, if I can’t get any help.”

“Who might be able to help?” Haz asked.

“Nick Valentine’s mighty handy with a computer, but he ain’t here. Unless we can get him up, guess we’ll have to get one of the scientists to help out.”

“If I can get him here… I might know someone who is able to help,” Foxtrot said. Why was a password not enough for them? She could see the argument for scrambling the data so even the Minutemen themselves couldn’t access it immediately. It was a hell of a move for security, but Foxtrot also seriously doubted her ability to convince HQ to send Tinker Tom all the way up to Sanctuary to break encryption on the Minutemen’s files. But if there was anyone that could do it, it was him. He’d broken the code on a _Courser_ chip.

“If you can get them, do it,” Sofia said. “What do we do… in the meantime?”

 

The answer turned out to be ‘business as usual’. Haz was quickly put to work training the recruits, and Foxtrot took the opportunity to compile a report on the Sanctuary situation. A runner was sent down to HQ with both the report and request for Tinker Tom’s help. A dash of his crazy genius was exactly what Foxtrot suspected they needed. And now she was sat on the patio of Sanctuary’s bar drinking Nuka-Cola - she _didn’t_ want a repeat of last night - and listening to Sofia sing. She had no backing, no microphone and no stage, but she sang nonetheless, choosing favourites from the radio that everybody could join in with or simple tunes that sounded good even without her recorded tracks. Sat on the edge of it all, Foxtrot had a good view of the rest of the bar. She could see Haz looking at his girlfriend, an expression of pure affection on his face. Charmer, laughing and drinking with Preston, Sturges, and few more Minutemen. It was getting late; Sofia finished up her song, to loud applause, then wandered back into the crowd. Amongst the congratulations and the pats on the back, she found Haz, took his hand, gave him a kiss. Then she looked around, and to Foxtrot’s surprise, when their eyes met, Sofia headed over with Haz.

“Nice singing,” Foxtrot said, downing her Nuka and spinning the cap between her fingers.

“Thanks,” Sofia said, sounding a little taken aback. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Sure seems like everybody else did, too,”

“Only Nuka tonight?” Haz said, sitting down opposite her. Sofia joined him.

“It’s been a quiet day. I don’t need a drink,”

“Still, if you wanted one I don’t think there’d be any harm in it,” Sofia said with a shrug.

“Yeah, after all I’d love to hear how you joined the Railroad,” Haz joked. Foxtrot smile, but it was small. Inside she felt her stomach churn.

“Look, telling you guys all that shit was a mistake,” she said. “You should forget I said it.”

“Why? We understand you better, and we appreciate your trust,” Haz replied.

“You guys understanding me better is precisely what I’m afraid of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sofia said.

“I _mean_ that… I shouldn’t have given the impression that… I can’t... “

“Do you think that you can’t trust us?”

“It’s not that!” Foxtrot said, frustrated. “It’s that it’s - it’s dangerous for you guys to be too close to me. I shouldn’t have let you think we could be friends,” she said, standing up.

“What? Foxtrot, that’s crazy – what do you mean?” Haz followed her as she started walking away from the bar, and Foxtrot spun around as he put a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not crazy! What I _mean_ is that Railroad agents aren’t _safe_ , Haz! We’re just not! One slip up can lead to everybody we know being put in danger!”

“So – what, you never speak to anyone outside of the Railroad?” Sofia said, catching up.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Foxtrot felt her stomach churn. They didn’t understand; how could they? They weren’t a _part_ of it, they hadn’t _been there –_ “We – when we get too close to people, it puts their lives on the line. It puts _our_ lives on the line. It puts the lives of synths on the line.”

“The Institute is gone, Foxtrot,” Haz said gently.

“You think I don’t know that?” she snarled. “Sure, it was the Minutemen who pushed the button, but do you know how many Railroad agents _died_ in the fight against the Institute? Did you know _we_ decoded the chip which got Charmer in there in the first place? Did you know our leader promised to help her find her son even before we knew the Institute was involved? We’ve been here, the whole time, behind the scenes because _we can’t afford to be in the spotlight._ There are too many people out there who would crush us, even without the Institute. The raiders. The Brotherhood. Half the Commonwealth. I’m not putting you guys in danger.” She fell silent, and stood there shaking for a moment. Haz started to say something, but Foxtrot darted away through the buildings.

 

A short while later, she was sat on a bench overlooking the river that ran past Sanctuary. The bench was in possibly the only garden in the Commonwealth not dedicated to growing food. The farm was not far from here, but the garden was in a quiet spot. Wild blossoms gathered from all over the Commonwealth and carefully planted, rustled in the breeze. To one side, a little covered platform held what looked like a crib - Foxtrot was curious, but had decided to investigate later. Together with the starlight and the sound of running water, Foxtrot felt much calmer. Hearing footsteps, she quickly stood up.

“Who’s there?”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Preston Garvey stepped into view. Surprised, but not unpleasantly so, Foxtrot shook her head.

“Not at all.”

“It’s a nice night,” the Colonel remarked, taking a seat on the bench.

“Rare, at this time of year,” Foxtrot said. They sat in silence for a few moments.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry if this is out of line. I just saw when you walked away from the bar you looked upset,” Preston said. Foxtrot glanced at him, feeling a surge of affection. _All the rumours are true. They say no matter who you are, no matter what he’s doing, you can take your troubles to Preston Garvey, and it’s_ true, Foxtrot thought with amazement. _Poor guy. I hope there’s people out there who support him, too._

“It’s… it’s not out of line. Thanks for asking,” she replied. “I just said a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have and…” she sighed.

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

“That’s exactly the point. Look, I - you know I’m in the Railroad. We don’t… mix well with other people. It’s dangerous. It means if we slip up it’s their lives on the line as well.”

“Well… maybe they think you’re worth the risk,” Garvey replied, and Foxtrot looked at him.

“They can’t possibly think that. I’m… I’m a means to an end for them, Sofia doesn’t even like the Railroad. They’ve got each other.”

“I’m no expert, but they look like they want to be friends with you to me.”

“I… I don’t get why. I’m with the Railroad; my whole life is spent on missions or in base; I get up and go to sleep at the craziest times; I’m always running all over the place for work… work which has already gotten them both kidnapped by raiders.”

“People don’t pick friendships for _convenience._ People pick friendships because of… well, cause of people,” Garvey said, and when Foxtrot glanced at him he wore a faraway smile.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” she said.

“I was just thinking of Diana, and people like her,” he replied. “She’s never in one place, always finding trouble, always got something to do, but I wouldn’t trade her friendship for anything in the world.”

“Yeah, but she’s confident and loud and charming as all hell. And I’m… not. I should just stick with the Railroad.”

“You really think that’s the best course of action?” Garvey frowned.

“Yes! Look, friendships can be dangerous for us in the Railroad, it’s not the same as the Minutemen-“

“Thirty seven people died in what people are calling the Quincey Massacre because a Minuteman decided that friendship wasn’t enough for him. I was there.” Now, his voice was like cold steel, and it sent a chill down Foxtrot’s spine. “You _don’t_ need to lecture me on betrayal or ‘dangerous friendships’.”

“God, I’m sorry, I didn’t think-“ _Idiot, idiot, self-centred idiot. How could you forget who you were talking to like that? The Last Minuteman._

“That’s exactly the problem. You need to start thinking about this. Sometimes, safety lies in numbers. Sometimes you have to start trusting people again.”

“I –“ Foxtrot opened her mouth to say something angry, but instead all that came out was a choked sob. She put her head in her heads. “I don’t know how.” She felt Garvey gently place a hand on her back.

“Hey, sorry for getting angry-”

“No, don’t _you_ apologise. You have nothing to apologise for here,” Foxtrot said, her turn to be passionate. Garvey was silent for a moment.

“Just… work with what you already have. Haz and Sofia. Do you want to be friends with them?”

“I - I mean, I guess, Haz is so nice and Sofia was kind to me, but-”

“You can be friends with them, then. If you all want to be friends then… I guess you already are. You might as well take the shot, because who knows what’ll happen tomorrow,” Garvey said, looking out across the river. Foxtrot straightened up, sniffing.

“Thanks, Garvey. You really didn’t need to do this, I’m sorry you had to and I’m sorry for what I said, but… that was just what I needed to hear.”

“I’m glad to help,”

“Still, thanks. You take care of yourself too, okay?”

“I will,” Preston replied with a small smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You really thought I could write a fic involving Preston and not include him in a heart-to-heart at some point?


	22. Haz - The Edge of Certainty

Early the next day, there were two new arrivals in Sanctuary. A pair of people who weren’t normal, even by wasteland standards. One, Haz recognised, with some surprise. It was the dark-skinned, white-haired Railroad agent that had been there to free them from the clutches of the L&L gang. Glory. She was surly, strong and stoic, and couldn’t have been more of a counterpoint to the man she accompanied. ‘Tinker’ Tom was supposedly a genius. Haz had to admit he was finding it difficult to see it.

“Er, hello?”

“What the-?!” he jumped a foot in the air as Haz approached. “O-oh, well, uh, who are - are you -”

“Do you have a Geiger counter?” Glory said, stepping between them.

“Mine is in the shop.”

“You Haz?”

“Yes, we’ve met,” Haz replied.

“Have we?”

“... Yeah, I was one of the people you rescued from that metro station. It’s… Glory, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I’m Glory. That was you, huh? Whatever. This is Tinker Tom. I’m gonna need you to keep your distance and talk slow,”

“Well… you’re here to crack the code on the Institute’s files, correct, sir?” Haz said, looking to Tom.

“Yeah, yeah, somethin’ about a… missing synth and needing data, that’s right,” he replied, fiddling with the straps on his denim overalls.

“We need proof if somebody is a synth,” Haz said, keeping his voice low and beginning to walk towards where he knew Sturges, Foxtrot and Sofia were waiting. “One that was run out of the Commonwealth by, er, you guys, six years ago. And is now back.”

“Is it you?” Glory asked.

“It’s not me. It’s my… it’s a girl called Sofia.”

“Your girlfriend. Got it,” Glory said, a small smirk threatening to curl at the edges of her mouth.

“Well, yes,” Haz said. He was aware of a low muttering, and realised it was Tinker Tom, just on the edge of hearing. “Are you gonna be alright, mate?”

“What? Me? Yeah! I’ll be just - just fine… except if the Brotherhood arrives… or if their secret radio stations-”

“Tom. We’ve been over this. We’re in the middle of the Minutemen’s second base. The Minutemen-”

“Are our allies, yeah, yeah, I know, it’s just-”

“And, even better, _I’m_ here,” Glory said, looking at her companion. He took a deep breath.

“Okay. I can do this. It’s cool. It’s - it’s fine. Deep breaths, yeah?”

“Thank you for coming out here,” Haz said. “I know it’s difficult.”

“You have no _idea_ all the ways we could’ve been tagged on the way here,” Tom said. Glory suppressed a roll of her eyes, but her almost-smile remained.

“Tom, like I said. We’re in Sanctuary, and Charmer is around here. Even if we were… nobody’s going to be fucking with us,” she said.

“The Minutemen will do everything in our power to keep you both safe,” Haz said smartly. Tom nodded, and Glory just let out a little noise which _could_ have been a chuckle. “This is it. Sturges?” Haz stopped at the door to the little building which housed Sanctuary’s computer banks. It was part of the Science Division, which was built around the busted particle relay used to get General Ridley into the Institute. It had been left there as something of a monument. 

“Come on in,” came the voice from inside, and Haz opened the door, standing aside for Glory to enter.

“Hey Glory. Hey Tom,” Foxtrot said, moving back as they entered. It wasn’t a large space, and for the six of them it was cramped.

“Foxtrot! They didn’t say it was you that sent the message!” Tom said. “Waitwaitwait, have you taken those pills I gave you?”

“The ones you told me would chemically block the Brotherhood X-Rays they’re using to see into me?.... Damn, Tom, I must’ve lost them,” Foxtrot replied. Haz exchanged a worried glance with Sofia, who was already looking uneasy.

“Ohhh, that’s not good, those babies took me-”

“Tom. Focus, man,” Glory said.

“Right. Sofia, Sturges, this is Glory and Tinker Tom,” Foxtrot said, gesturing to her two friends. “Tom’s here to, hopefully, crack this code,”

“It’s all yours, man. I can’t make head or tail of it,” Sturges said, stepping away from the hefty computer and letting Tom at it. “Foxtrot here figured you might be able to help.”

“You say this is Institute data? And you just plugged it right in? Man, we gonna have some issues if I don’t secure this… encryption’s tight as hell, though. Pretty well scrambled. I’m gonna have to write a program to help crack this baby.”

“How long will that take?” Sofia asked. Haz noticed she was twisting her hands anxiously.

“Who knows, man. Depends what setbacks we get. I’d leave a day or more,” Tom replied, noticeably calmer now that he was in his comfort zone.

“You want us to just leave you to it, then?” Sturges asked.

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be cool-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Glory said, folding her arms.

“Are you his… bodyguard?” Sofia asked.

“.... Yeah,” Glory replied. There was a brief moment of silence, before Haz opened the door again and traipsed out.

 

“Guys, I need to talk to you,” Foxtrot said once they left and the three of them were alone.

“What is it?” Haz said, starting to walk. Foxtrot and Sofia fell into step.

“Last night, I… I was annoyed, and I rushed off. I’m sorry.”

“It’s a sensitive matter. I’m sorry if you felt like we were pushing you on it,” Haz said, and meant it. After Foxtrot had left the other night it had taken him a while to calm down.

“I just meant that… it’s dangerous for you guys to be close to me. If the wrong people get the wrong info, it could make anyone we know targets. I don’t want to put you guys in any more danger.” Haz felt his heart go out to Foxtrot. Over the past few days he felt like he’d come to a much better understanding as to who she was, and found himself both trusting and liking her more and more.

“You’ve already risked a lot for our sake,” Sofia said. “It’s just… fair trade.”

“I signed up to the Minutemen because I wasn’t afraid of risking my life. Do you really think I’d let the _possibility_ of danger get in the way of a friendship?” Haz said with a grin. Foxtrot smiled, blushing as she looked away.

“Um, alright, guess we’re… I guess I’ll just… I’ll catch up with you guys later,” she said, abruptly turning and heading in the other direction. Sofia and Haz exchanged a glance as she went. Haz shrugged, and Sofia shrugged back.

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me. I have no idea either. We’ve spent days in close proximity and I’m still struggling to get a read on her,” she said. Haz chuckled softly.

“She’s a tough cookie, alright. But it looks like she wants to be friends, if we do.”

“Weirdly enough… I think I do,” Sofia said, kicking at a stone on the ground. “I never thought I’d trust someone that was in the Railroad. Even now it’s… strange. Difficult. There’s still so many secrets. But when I saw her, back at that place, the Switchboard, she was crying.” Haz raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Sofia nodded. “And it was like I realised that she was just… a person. Like me, and you. Well…” Sofia looked down and a waiver of doubt passed through her voice. Haz gently put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey. You alright?”

“I… I don’t want to know. But I can’t stand not knowing. Does that make sense?” she asked, looking up at him. He nodded slowly.

“I understand. When… when I saw my town burnt, I wanted so badly to look through the wreckage, trying to see if I could make out who got away and who had perished, but at the same time… I knew that if I didn’t, I could always keep that hope that maybe more of them escaped than I thought.”

“ _Exactly._ That’s exactly it,” Sofia said. “You know what I mean when I say there’s something… awful about certainty.” As they walked, they approached the garden by the riverside, and Haz saw Sofia’s gaze shift to the little raised platform with a roof. “What is this place?” she asked, gently touching the flowers in wonder as she walked through the garden and up to the monument. Haz joined her. She walked up the steps; the shapes on the platform were now evident. A baby’s crib, battered, its blue paint flaking. Inside and around it were other things, faded and out of place. A box with ‘BREAD’ on it. A coffee tin. Wooden letter blocks. Haz felt the familiar shiver run down his spine, the sensation that always came upon him here.

“It’s a memorial,” he said.

“For the Minutemen?”

“For… anyone. Everyone. The things are from the General’s home, before the war. She set this up after we took down the Institute, to commemorate her son, and the Minutemen we lost taking the Institute. Innocent synths killed, people taken by the Institute, the folk lost in the Quincey Massacre… anybody who should be remembered but that we couldn’t dig a grave for, she said,” Haz explained in a low voice.

“But she made it a garden, too. Somewhere nice to be,” Sofia said, staring out at the plants and flowers, a few of them bearing late fruit. “I like that.”

“She said she wanted people to see it as a place to come and think and remember, not just a place for people to be sad,” Haz said. Sofia nodded, and as he stood next to her he felt for her hand. She gripped it tightly.

“That’s a good thought. I like it here, and I like knowing that… we have a monument. A memorial. If it’s for people lost to the Institute…”

“It’s for you. It’s yours, as much as it is ours,” Haz said, smiling sadly at her. “And no matter what, whether you’re a synth or a human, you’re welcome here. Whether you want certainty or uncertainty.”

“I’m just… scared. I’m scared that if I am a synth, it means…” Sofia cut herself off, and sighed. “You know I… well. I got amnesia from that raider attack, and so I… I don’t know. If I’m a synth, it means that none of the things I think I can remember, none of the things I hope are true, all my dreams of one day getting my memories back or finding my family… it will all be… gone,” she said, voice trembling. Haz put his arms around her tightly.

“That might be gone, but you’re well on your way to finding a new family. Please don’t forget that, sunshine. I’m sticking by you. No matter what,” he gently lead her to the bench, and they sat down, looking at the sun shimmer on the water. She laid her head on his shoulder, and there they sat, on the edge of certainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I go ages without updating and then post three chapters on the same day, but I'm actually on holiday right now and I did some editing on the plane. And, as previously stated, I'd like to post a little Christmassy one-shot I wrote at a reasonably seasonal date, and it's technically set after the events of this story, so I'm hurrying up my editing. Equally, being on holiday gives me more time!


	23. Sofia - Certainty (Part One)

It was late afternoon when Foxtrot showed up at the door to the little bedroom Sofia had been given. She looked up from the lyrics she was scribbling and shoved them to one side. It had been an attempt to distract herself, but nothing was working; the lyrics came out messy and disjointed. She couldn’t make the words flow. Now, as she looked up at Foxtrot, she felt her blood run cold.

“Have they done it?” Foxtrot simply nodded. In a moment, Sofia was on her feet. However, Foxtrot held up a hand.

“They’ve cracked the code, but all that does is give us _access_ to the files. We still need to find out if there’s a file… for you. There’s no easy way of searching for your data, and since there’s thousands of files and we don’t know what your synth designation was… it could take a while.”

“How long?”

“Depends. I think they’re trying to filter it down, you know, using your gender and when you got found by the Railroad for reference points, but it’s probably going to be a little while.”

“Okay,” Sofia shifted from one foot to the other. “Can I go to the division anyway? I could sit outside...”

“Yeah, I doubt they’ll mind. I mean… this is for you,” Foxtrot said with a shrug. “Are you… gonna be okay?” Sofia stood for a moment, swallowing, then breathed out slowly.

“I… think so. Sooner or later, we’re going to find out.”

“What do _you_ think?” Foxtrot asked as they left the house.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think you’re a synth? Or not?”

“I... “ the question stopped Sofia in her tracks. Apart from at first, when she’d been so convinced she couldn’t possibly be a synth, she hadn’t felt certain about it. It had all been a haze of doubt and worry since then - she knew she _could_ be a synth. It was a possibility, one of many, and not one she wanted to be true. But wanting something didn’t always matter.

“Don’t sweat it. We’ll find out for sure soon enough, anyway,” Foxtrot said with a shrug.

“Foxtrot, I’m… scared,” Sofia whispered, the words surprising her even as she spoke them. Foxtrot turned to look at her, taken aback.

“Don’t be.”

“What happens if I am a synth?”

“There are lots of options. But ultimately… it’s not gonna change who you are. You have to remember that.”

“I don’t… I’m not sure,” Sofia said, feeling her insides tense. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Look, I know you don’t really want to trust me, but take my word on this one, will you? The circles I move in, everybody’s got a lot of stuff they’d rather keep hidden. A lot of stuff they don’t necessarily like about themselves. Synths included. But at the end of the day, we just have to keep moving.”

“I don’t know… how.” Sofia felt her stomach churn. Foxtrot didn’t understand, how could she? She hadn’t been through this, hadn’t lived the fear and doubt and uncertainty of knowing you might not even be human. But the agent just shrugged.

“Nobody else is gonna be able to point the way out for you. I’m sorry. You don’t have to be alone, but you need to figure out who you are for yourself, you get me?”

“I… I think so. Let’s just go to the Science Division,” Sofia said, putting a hand to her head and starting to walk.

 

“Sofia?” Haz stepped out of the shed housing the computers, and Sofia felt her heart leap into her mouth, just like every other time somebody had walked by for the past hour. “Haz? What is it? News?” she said, scrambling up. Very slowly, he nodded. “What is it? What have they found?”

“How do you want to do this?” Haz asked. “You can go in there and ask, or I can tell you, or you can see for yourself.”

Sofia started to shake, felt heat rise to her face. This was it, this was the moment. She felt as if she was going to be sick.

“I… I don’t... “ She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and placed her hands on Haz’s shoulders. He returned the gesture, and leant his forehead against hers. They stayed like that for a moment, silent and unmoving, before Sofia drew back, trying to blink away the tears in her eyes. “You tell me, first of all. Then if I want to go in there, I can,” she whispered.

“Alright, sunshine. Whatever you want,” Haz said, and planted a kiss on her forehead. He took a moment, held her hand, and let out a long breath. “They found your file. Picture and all. You’re a synth.”

“I… I’m a synth.”

“Listen, love, it doesn’t-”

“I’m… a synth,” Sofia repeated, blankly. Her mind was filling with radio static, crackling and buzzing, drowning everything else out but the one message that got through. _You’re a synth. You’re a synth. You’re a synth._

There was no point denying it now, no point refuting it, no more going back. She didn’t need to see the file, didn’t want to. What was the point? Haz would never lie about it, and neither would the Minutemen. To try and claim the data was faulty, or a mistake, or misleading somehow, would just be bloody-minded at this point. She’d been in denial long enough, she had delayed this moment for as long as possible, but she knew defeat when she saw it, and this was it. The evidence stacked against her, the case closed, the point proven beyond reasonable doubt.

_And you’re guilty, guilty, guilty. You’re a synth._

“Sofia…”

“That’s not even my name, is it?” Sofia said, laughing through her tears in the shaky, unhinged way of those in despair. “I was never born with a name. I wasn’t born at all.”

“Sofia, it _is_ your name. It’s you, it’s who you are.”

“It’s _not_ who I am! Even _I_ don’t know who I am!” she cried, throwing her arms wide. “You tell _me_ who I am! What was on their file? My code?”

“I don’t know if that’s-”

“Haz. Tell me,” she said. “I’ve already had too many people decide what’s best for me.”

“Your designation was… S4-17,” Haz muttered.

“S4-17.” The code felt foreign, tasted like burning in her mouth. She felt her skin crawl, felt her blood boil. Was she flesh and blood? She had been created by the Institute. Created by the one thing she hated the most, the one thing that had ruined her life to the point she’d wondered if it was beyond repair. And now they were ruining it all over again, even though they were nothing more than a crater. “They’ll never be done with me, will they? They’ll never be fucking done,” she said, turning away. A violent shudder came over her as a thought occurred to her, one which shook her to her core and nearly made her throw up on the spot.

 _What if they came for_ me? _What if it was my fault?_

“Sofia…” Haz reached out to put a hand on her shoulder. “Leave me alone, okay?!” she snapped, batting it away. “Just… leave me the fuck alone!” She ran, not knowing where to, just knowing it had to be away, away from here, away from the people who believed in her, in this facade of _humanity_ she’d constructed. Away.

 

S4-17 eventually found herself in the hills beyond Sanctuary, and after tiring herself out, sat down underneath a tree. She sat for a long time, until the sun dipped below the horizon, and darkness gradually blanketed the landscape. It happened so slowly, and she was so absorbed in herself she barely notice. She just hugged her knees and stared into nothing. She was a synth. So what now? Did that make her nothing?

_No. It can’t do._

But she’d been created by the Institute, for God knew what purpose.

_But you escaped._

But she wasn’t the same person - the same synth - who escaped. That synth was gone. Wiped away.

 _So you are your own person. The people you’ve met, the ones who befriended you, loved you,_ named _you, they didn’t see you for_ what _you are, they saw you for_ who _you are._

They were deceived. If they’d known -

_Would it have made a difference? The ones from the village, they loved you for who you were._

And she might have gotten them killed.

_Might. Not ‘did’. It could have been for any reason. Would they really send so many out for one synth?_

Who knew, and anyway, they were all dead.

_Haz loves you no matter what, he said it himself. Foxtrot cares what happens to you, and she’s dedicated her life to saving synths. Vadim is your friend, and he works with the Railroad._

She thought back to what Foxtrot had asked her. _‘Do you think you’re a synth?’_

She hadn’t thought so, because she’d felt synths weren’t human, on some level. That maybe they didn’t think, or feel, the same way as real people. How could they? They were made. Designed. Manufactured.

But she still _felt_ human, even though she knew she was a synth. There was no denying the emotions that were coursing through her body. She’d been given the name Sofia by a small child in her village, and she’d accepted that name. That was who she _was_ , what everybody knew her as-

“Sofia?” She was jolted from her thoughts as she heard Foxtrot’s voice, and saw a lantern swinging in the twilight. “There you are. We’ve been looking for you all evening,”

“I…” Sofia found it hard to get words out, with all the thoughts still flying around in her head. “I’m sorry,” she eventually said.

“Don’t be. You needed the space,” Foxtrot said. “Mind if I sit?”

“...No,” Sofia was surprised at the request, but didn’t mind.

“I know it’s… probably not the most helpful question right now, but how are you holding up?” Foxtrot asked.

“How am I? Really?”

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m not… used to this whole comforting thing, alright? I’m just saying… if you want to talk, then I’m here.”

“Sofia? Foxtrot?” Haz’s voice echoed across the hill, and Foxtrot called out.

“Over here!”

“There you are!” Haz ran to them, stopping just short of Sofia. However, she tentatively extended her hands for a hug, accepting the brief feeling of security given by his strong arms around her.

“Are you alright?”

“I -” Sofia couldn’t answer, and Haz realised instantly.

“I mean, shit, of course you aren’t… I’m sorry, god, I’m sorry-”

“No, Haz, it’s not your fault, it’s just... I’m… I just… look, it’s the feeling that I’m not in control of my life. I knew I had amnesia, or was memory wiped, whatever, I couldn’t remember anything. But I imagined. I had all these fantasies, these little stories about who I was before, what I’d been, where I’d come from. Dreams about one day seeing something which would bring my memories back, or meeting somebody who recognised me, or discovering my family from before. Now… all of that is gone. I’ll never meet anybody from ‘before’, because there _is_ no ‘before’. I’ll never meet any family because I don’t have any,” Sofia said, letting her tears roll down her face. Haz took her hand.

“That just means you get to choose your family,” Foxtrot said.

“I feel like… I don’t have the right to do that. I feel like I’m deceiving everyone I meet, everyone I’ve _ever_ met. How do I know I’m… real? How much of what I’m feeling is just lines of computer code, all those little ones and zeroes? If my brain is just a computer chip, then I’m just a… a program.”

“Sofia… the way I’ve heard, we’re all just strings of chemicals ourselves, every single one of us. Hell, they call DNA a code. What makes it any different?” Haz said. “I can’t stress it any more. It doesn’t _matter_ what’s in your head, it doesn’t _matter_ what you’re made out of or where you came from, I love you. And you’re real. You’re so real you’re bursting at the seams,” he said, his voice cracking and tears springing to his eyes. Sofia wiped away her own, then his. There was a long silence, unbroken but for the quiet rattle of the breeze through the bare trees around them.

“Do you know why I joined the Railroad?” Foxtrot said eventually. They both turned to look at her. She was staring into the lantern, its dim light casting shadows and highlights onto her face.

“Tell us,” Haz said. Sofia frowned, but didn’t say anything. Why had she chosen _now_ of all times?

“It was a long time ago, back in Goodneighbour. I dunno how old I was. Hancock was in charge, anyway, but he hadn’t been for very long. People were still restless and uppity, old supporters of Vic were still being cleared out, nobody really knew how things were going to turn out yet. There wasn’t a proper Watch, not like there is now. So… I hear noises from an alley, a rowdy mob. Not so uncommon in Goodneighbour. I assumed they were just drunk, but when you get closer… you can tell the difference between a bunch of drunks or chem-heads and something worse. This was something worse.” Foxtrot looked down, picking at her nails, and Sofia swallowed. She had a hundred ideas, but one stood out. “I pushed forwards, trying to see what it was they all seemed to be looking at. I started hearing some of what they were saying. They were yelling things like ‘kidnapper’ and ‘infiltrator’ and ‘synth scum’, and I get near the front and I catch a glimpse of this guy.”

“Was he… actually a synth?” Haz asked.

“I had no idea at the time. I didn’t know whether he really was a synth and let it slip somehow, or whether he was just some poor sod who got unlucky, but in any case, he’d got this whole mob surrounding him. Someone yelled out that they should ‘make an example’ of him and I…” she broke off, pausing to think. “Y’know, before that I’d never really had any strong feelings about synths. Never met one, ‘least not that I knew about, and Hancock was kinda trying to push the whole ‘everyone’s welcome’ thing, but he had other things to be worrying about. But right then? All I saw was a really scared guy, pleading for his life against an angry mob. A guy so scared he was barely holding together. And… I dunno, I guess I suddenly felt ‘fuck it, that’s human enough for me, human enough that we shouldn’t be doing this’,” she said.

“What did you do?” Sofia asked. Her heart went out suddenly to Foxtrot. _Maybe we’re worth saving, after all._

“Heh. The only thing I could think of. I elbowed my way out of the crowd and threw myself in front of him, yelling at all the others to lay off.”

“Did they?” Haz sat forward. Foxtrot smiled humourlessly.

“Hardly. But, they were distracted from beating the shit out of the _guy_ for a while, cause they were beating the shit out of _me_ instead.”

“Christ… I hope you know how brave you are.”

“Brave? No. It was a fucking stupid idea, I had no plan of how to get either of us out of there… but I’m still not ashamed of doing it. I think if I hadn’t… I wouldn’t have been able to live with it. I think we only got out of it alive because a couple of Hancock’s guys showed up. There were some shots fired, and everybody scattered pretty quick, or so I’m told. I don’t… exactly remember a lot. Doctor Amari patched me up for free. Said she had some friends who might contact me eventually. A while later I got my first note from the Railroad. From then on…” Foxtrot shrugged. “A dead drop here, a dead drop there, first meeting with a tourist… it’s history, I guess.”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, looking at the night sky.

“Look, I appreciate your trust, and I think that was very brave of you, but-” Sofia began, but Foxtrot cut her off, holding up a hand. “Why did I just dump all that on you?”

“Well… yes.”

“There was a point, I promise. The point is: I didn’t decide to help that synth - a long time later I found out he was actually synth - because I had some high ideals about freeing slaves from their masters. I didn’t help him because I knew he was a synth and I thought they should all live free, I didn’t help him ‘cause I wanted to join the Railroad - I thought they were just rumours back then. I helped him because I saw how scared he was, and I thought that made him enough of a person to be worth saving. Basically…” Foxtrot sighed. “This was all a really long-winded, oversharing way of saying that even if your thoughts _are_ computer codes, it doesn’t matter. You’re real. Got it?”

“I’m… real,” Sofia repeated quietly.

_I’m real._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iiiit's a two-parter! And quite a hefty one in terms of exposition AND feelings (I hope)!  
> Again, sorry for the whacked update schedule but hey I'll get there eventually!


	24. Sofia - Certainty (Part Two)

“Love, what are we going to do?” Haz said. The two of them lay, outside the boundaries of Sanctuary, away from the eyes and ears of others, away from those who could judge them. Sofia looked up at the clouds passing slowly by above them, felt his hand run slowly through her hair.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” she whispered. His arm tightened slightly around her shoulders. “This is all… so much to take in.”

“I’ll stay by your side if you want me to.”

“Of course I want that. I’ve tried going it alone, I don’t want that any more. And besides, you’ve made it… pretty clear how you feel about me. I don’t think I can just throw that away,” she said, taking his hand. He looked at her with those startling blue eyes of his.

“If you don’t feel the same way, you’re not bound to me. You’re not bound by anything I’ve said.”

“Haz, no, that’s not what I meant! I…” Sofia took a deep breath. She never thought she’d say these words, never thought she’d get to that point. Certainly didn’t think that she would have anybody to say them to after last night. But here he was. And she couldn’t let this moment slip away from her. “I love you too.” All at once, the fear went out of his eyes, replaced by a softness Sofia felt swallowed her whole.

“Well… that settles that, then,” he said quietly, leaning in to give her a kiss. According to the songs, and the few books she’d read, he should have smelt of pine wood and fresh breeze and that thing they called ‘cologne’. He didn’t; he smelt of dirt and sweat and worn leather, but she didn’t care. It was _real._

“But you have things to do. You’re a Minuteman, and I can’t make a living up here in Sanctuary, it’s not fair. You don’t have the money,” Sofia said. “I don’t… I…” all at once, the reality struck her again. How many times was this going to happen? She kept almost forgetting, almost having it put out of her mind that she was a synth, that she wasn’t out of Diamond City on some holiday but rather because she wasn’t _human_. “I don’t know if I can even sing my old songs anymore. Half of them are about things which aren’t going to be real anyway, and the other half are too…” She scrunched up her face with the pain of thinking about it, and Haz squeezed her shoulders.

“Then you can write new ones. Look, we’ll figure this out, figure all of it out, but it’s not going to come to us in a morning. It’s going to take time,” he said. Sofia sighed.

“I know that. I’m just… scared.”

“Of course you are. That’s fine. Hell, I’d be worried if you weren’t, considering everything. But if there’s anything I can do to make you less scared, you just let me know.”

“Thank you,” Sofia curled into him, looking out at the water.

 

Later that day, after spending time talking with Haz, eating lunch and eventually pulling up weeds in the farm just to give herself something to do, Sofia found herself back in her room. She heard a knock at the door.

“Come in?” The door creaked open, and Foxtrot’s face appeared. She stepped inside, and Sofia wasn’t surprised to see Haz follow her, but she _was_ surprised to see Glory, that Railroad woman. “Um… yes?”

“Yeah, I’d kind of like to know what this is about, too,” Haz said, taking a seat on a windowsill. Foxtrot didn’t sit down, and neither did Glory, who stood by the door with her usual stoic face.

“Well. Hm. Okay, look,” Foxtrot said, starting to pace up and down. “Obviously, with the news and finding out about being a synth and everything, you’re probably wondering what your options are.”

“I certainly don’t seem to have very many,” Sofia said, trying but failing to keep the bitterness and fear out of her voice. It was just so _unfair._ Why her?

“Well, it can seem that way, but it’s not true. I know this is all pretty overwhelming, and I’m really sorry, but this… is one option. I’m not saying it’s the best one for you, but it’s what we recommend to most synths that we deal with, so you should hear about it, at least.”

“‘We’ being the Railroad here, I assume?” Haz asked. Foxtrot and Glory both nodded.

“It’s a bit… look, all I’m asking is that you hear me out, okay? I know it might not be the best thing under the circumstances, but-” Foxtrot asked.

“Can you cut to the chase?” Sofia said, although she felt worry creep towards her. Foxtrot took a deep breath.

“We find that hiding from the Institute and anyone else who wants to harm synths is a lot easier if you don’t know you’re a synth. It also helps take off the mental pressure of.. Well, living around here. We recommend undergoing a memory wipe to the synths we help. Now, I know that with you it’s kind of different because you already-” she didn’t get any further. Sofia stood up with the force of an explosion, causing Foxtrot to flinch back and Glory ready herself as if for a fight.

“A MEMORY WIPE? You can’t be serious!” she yelled. In the corner of her eye, she saw Haz stand up, and thought he was going to hold her back, but no, his eyes were filled with as much rage as she’d ever seen.

“Look, I’m not saying that it was going to be the-”

“Good! I can’t believe you’d even fucking _suggest_ that! WHAT THE FUCK?” Sofia shouted, feeling the angry tears rise in her eyes, anger that this woman who she thought was finally her friend could _say_ that. “You KNOW who I am now! You know _WHAT_ I am! You know what I’ve been through and you want to give it a chance to happen AGAIN?”

“No! Sofia, god, please, if you’d just-”

“Let her speak,” Haz said, his voice low like thunder.

“After I had amnesia, something you _conveniently_ used to cover your tracks before, after I was memory wiped ONCE, after I’ve already found out all my dreams of getting my memories back are NEVER coming true, you seriously want to come in here and tell me I could get it all taken from me again? You suggest stripping away EVERYTHING I am, everything I have which is really MY OWN, and for WHAT? Because it makes YOUR JOB easier? Is that all this is to you? A job?”

“No! Sofia, Haz, please! This is just protocol, I’m not-” Foxtrot backed off, looking desperately at Glory.

“There’s a time and place for protocol. I know you may have meant well, but this wasn’t it,” Haz said.

“Do you really think I’d willingly give up Haz for the sake of protocol? Hell, if this was coming from anyone else, maybe the losing YOU would have been one of my reasons for getting this angry.”

“Don’t look at me. I never took the memory wipe,” Glory said with a shrug as Sofia’s gaze landed on her.

“You’re really okay with just standing here whilst they ‘recommend’ it to everyone?”

“Not really, but it’s something that’s already being discussed by a lot of people, me included. Foxtrot is following the standard procedure; it was just a suggestion. Cut her some slack.”

“This is your standard procedure, huh? I thought I was an outside case because of the amnesia and trauma! You do this _all the time?_ You know what? I’m done with you people. Done with the Railroad. I know now what it’s like now to find out that your entire life is a lie, and if what you’re doing puts other people at risk of what I’ve been through, _regularly,_ then I _don’t_ want your help anymore,” Sofia said, swallowing tears furiously.

“Sofia…”

“GO!” Flinching, Foxtrot dove past Glory and out of the room. Glory cast one last wary look at Sofia and Haz, before turning and leaving herself, shutting the door with a resolute _thunk_. Sofia immediately turned and collapsed into Haz’s arms, sobbing.

“Shh… it’s alright,” Haz said, stroking her hair gently. She looked up at him after a while.

“It’s _not_ alright. I can’t believe they would say that, I can’t believe they want to do that to everyone, I thought it was just me or maybe a couple others, but _all_ of them?” She broke off crying again, some part in the back of her brain smugly noting how she once would’ve scorned the pain of synths, now she was crying for them.

“You have to understand, it’s not like people are forced or pressured into it, they get the risks and benefits explained properly-”

“Wait… you knew about this?”

“Only… since recently,” Haz said. Sofia looked up at him and felt her heart shatter. _No, not you, not you too, please not you…_ but it was no good. He was one of them. Of course he was, she’d almost forgotten when he took her side. But he worked for them, didn’t he? A ‘tourist’, they said. An informant.

“You _knew_ ,” she said, tears clouding her vision. She was glad of this. It would be less painful saying goodbye if she couldn’t see him properly, if she couldn’t see the hurt in those sky blue eyes. Maybe they would see each other again, but now all she knew was that she needed to figure this out alone. “You _knew_ that was what they were doing and you were fine with it? That they were just wiping people’s memories away as ‘standard procedure’?”

“Like I said, Sofia, it’s not how you think. You’re a unique case, nothing like this has ever happened before. They’re just trying to do the best they can with what they have. People don’t get pressured into this, it’s a huge decision that’s taken seriously.”

“But it’s still taking away everything they _are,_ everything they had before!”

“Maybe they feel like they don’t have anything worth holding onto.”

“I just feel like it’s _wrong,_ Haz! What if people take your ‘recommendations’ without really knowing what could happen?”

“I know, it seems like a bad thing to do, but-”

“I don’t want to hear more excuses! Look, I… I need to figure this out on my own. I’m not getting my memories taken from me. I don’t know what I _am_ going to do. But I need some space.” “Okay. Just… come and find me if you need me, alright?” Haz said, slowly walking across the room. Sofia felt her heart buckle.

_I have a feeling it might end up being the other way around._


	25. Foxtrot - Personal Matters

“Glory, you don’t understand! I’ve fucked everything up! _Everything!”_ Foxtrot paced around, tucked away behind the corner of a house.

“You kinda have, yeah,” Glory said, lighting a cigarette. She offered one to Foxtrot. “You look like you could need it.”

“Glory, that’s _really_ not reassuring!” Foxtrot cried, but took the cigarette and fumbled for a light.

“I mean, let’s look at the situation. You tried to suggest an idea that’s supposed to keep synths safe, and now she’s rejected our help and is probably gonna be more in danger than ever,” Glory continued, taking a puff and blowing the smoke out moodily. Foxtrot opened her mouth to say something else, but Glory cut her off. “ _Yes,_ you - okay, _we_ \- fucked up. Should’ve thought it through more. But now we have to deal with the situation we made.”

“I don’t know _how,”_ Foxtrot slumped down onto a wall, taking a long drag of her cigarette. “She won’t talk to us, and I don’t even know if things are going to be okay between her and Waywatcher now.”

“Maybe not, but there’s other ways of sorting it out. Des and Carrington might be a little less eager to push the memory wipes now. You know how _I_ feel about them.”

“Of course. I do think that we should be more sparing with them, but I thought we’d solved that problem now that we’ve got the links with Acadia and Far Harbour. We had another option to give people.”

“It was never gonna _solve_ the problem. At the end of the day, it’s still a pretty messed up thing to be doing, and making it so agents are supposed to put it forward as the best idea to everyone? Sofia’s right, that’s fucked up, and it’s fucked us over this time,” Glory said. “More importantly, I’m worried that she’s gonna go running off by herself and get herself hurt or killed. And let me tell you now, Foxtrot, I’m _not_ letting that happen, not after all this,” Glory pointed a commanding finger at Foxtrot’s chest. Foxtrot swallowed, and thought back to Sofia smiling weakly, repeating ‘ _I’m real.’_ Her face when Foxtrot asked ‘ _Do you think you’re a synth?’._ Preston Garvey looking straight into her eyes and saying ‘ _You might as well take the shot, because who knows what’ll happen tomorrow?’._

“Me neither,” she replied, voice hardening with determination.

“So what do we do?”

“Huh?”

“So? What’s your plan?” Glory said, blowing out a stream of smoke. “Don’t look at me all clueless, you’re the intel one. I specialise in filling shit full of bullets, not this crap.”

“I… I’m going to need a while to think it over, okay? You should take Tom back to HQ. I’ll head down once I’ve figured something out.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I could try talking to her again once she’s cooled off - and I’ll see if I can get Waywatcher to help us.”

“You think he will?”

“I’ll wait until tomorrow, but I should be able to talk him around,” Foxtrot replied, stubbing out her cigarette.

 

“ _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”_

“Fucking hell!” Foxtrot jolted awake and stumbled out of bed, grabbing her rifle instinctively. She only lowered it when she recognised the shape at the door was Haz. “What time is it?”

Light was filtering in through the windows, so beyond knowing it was morning, she had no idea. After avoiding Haz and not seeing Sofia the previous evening, she had no idea why he would suddenly be bursting into her room looking so angry.

“That’s not important, _where is she?”_ Foxtrot felt her stomach tense.

“Sofia?”

“Who else?!” Haz yelled.

“Look, I don’t know. If she’s gone… then I’m as worried as you are.” She’d been banking on seeing Sofia at least one more time, trying to give her another contact point - a location or a tourist - so that if she changed her mind about needing the Railroad’s help she had somewhere to go. But if she’d just run off in the night… _damn it!_ Why hadn’t she foreseen this?

“I doubt that _very_ much,” he growled. “You did this.”

“Waywatcher - Haz - please. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, I’m trying to work something out, alright?”

“Then you’re already too late! She’s _gone,_ Foxtrot! She left a note and her _bow_ behind in her room!”

“What?! What did the note say?”

“It said… she had to work things out for herself, and not to try and find her.”

“And are you really going to do that?”

“Listen. Maybe what we had was rushed, but it was because we were forged in the flames. Because we were told life is too short to waste time not saying what you feel. And there are still things I haven’t told Sofia, things I want to talk to her about, chances I feel like we haven’t taken yet. But I have no damn clue what to do now.”

“You want to go and find her, don’t you?”

“But I want to respect her wishes, too,” Haz said, frown etched onto his face. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t thought it was a good idea to damn well suggest a _memory wipe_ on her. What were you _thinking?”_ he snarled.

“I tried to preface it as best I could! I _said_ I didn’t think it would be the best course of action! I _said_ that it was just protocol! I thought it was best that she knew all of her options, that she was _informed!_ I get now that it was a mistake, and I’m _sorry.”_

“Sorry why? Because you’ve lost the trust of a friend and ruined a relationship, or sorry because she’s turned her back on the Railroad?”

“You know what they mean to me,” Foxtrot said, feeling as if Haz was twisting a knife in her heart with every word. “And you know I wanted to be friends.”

“But the Railroad were always going to come first, weren’t they?” Haz said, looking at her. The anger was still there, simmering just below the surface, but on his face instead was a look of profound disappointment. It hurt more than the anger ever could.

“They’re not just my work, they’re my family. I’m sorry,” she whispered. Haz held her gaze for a moment, then looked away.

“Well, I can’t be like you. Sofia’s turned her back on the Railroad,”

“Are you…”

“I don’t want to be a tourist anymore. Don’t send anybody to talk to me, and don’t expect any more dead drops from me. If I have to make the choice between you, and her… it’s no choice at all.” Foxtrot felt a lump in her throat all of a sudden. Everything was falling apart. She nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she managed to say, swallowing hard. “What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going back to Diamond City. I’ll ask at the settlements on the way there, but I’m not chasing Sofia. If she says she needs to sort this out on her own, that’s what she needs to do. But when she does return to Diamond City, I’ll be drinking in the Dugout waiting for her, and I can say with a clear conscience that I’m not affiliated with the Railroad any longer.”

“She wouldn’t even know if you hadn’t told her,” Foxtrot said. Haz looked at her for a long time.

“I can’t lie like that, Foxtrot. I’m not like you. I was never made for hiding behind a fake name, a fake story,” she felt heat rise to her cheeks.

“Alright, you’ve made your point.” There was a long pause as they stared at each other, tension rising, then Haz turned.

“Goodbye, Foxtrot,”

“Goodbye.” She watched as he left, then sank back down onto her bed. One synth gone, possibly in danger, and one tourist left, all because of her stupid blunder. HQ was going to _love_ this. A persistent voice in the back of her head reminded her that she had lost more than that, too. She thought back to standing on the porch with Valentine, smoking as he told her not to be so quick to write off anyone who wasn’t Railroad. Sitting on a bench with Garvey as he told her to take the chance at friendship. And she _had._ She’d told them things she’d never told anyone outside of the Railroad, outside of her family. And now it was all for nothing. She sighed, and started to gather up her things. It was going to be a long trip back home.

 

When she opened the door to HQ and stepped out of the escape tunnel, Foxtrot almost felt like crying. The smell of damp stone, cigarette smoke, coffee and metal. The quiet babble of voices, all familiar; the faint sound of a radio, the whistle of a boiling kettle. It was _home,_ and she felt as if she’d been away for a century.

“Foxtrot! Des and Carrington want a briefing immediately,” Drummer Boy said as he jogged up to her. As much as she was dreading this, she knew never to shoot the messenger - not that she’d ever be capable of taking anything out on Drummer Boy. He was far too sweet and helpful for anyone in the Railroad to truly be angry with him.

“Okay. Thanks, DB,” she replied wearily, dumping her pack in the corridor and heading through into the main room. She saw Des, Carrington, Deacon and Glory all waiting around the main table; Carrington handed her a mug of coffee as she joined them. Thank heavens for small mercies. She took a long sip to delay speaking.

“Foxtrot. Glory has briefed us on yesterday’s events involving Sofia and Waywatcher. As we understood, you were remaining in Sanctuary to talk with them more and figure out a plan of action. Were you successful?” Desdemona said, lighting a cigarette. Foxtrot bit her lip, looking around at the assembled agents.

“No,” she said at length. “I’m afraid the situation has… got a lot worse,”

“Glory informed us that Sofia had cut ties with us and that Waywatcher was on her side. How much worse are we talking?” Carrington said.

“Sofia has disappeared. She left Sanctuary last night and we don’t know where she is.”

“ _What?”_ Glory stepped forwards, face like thunder. “She’s just _gone?_ She could be in danger!”

“She left a note saying she wanted to figure things out by herself. Waywatcher found it.”

“I assume he’s going to help us find her?” Desdemona asked. Foxtrot hesitated, taking another sip of her coffee, then sighed.

“No. He… has also cut ties with us. Says he’s going to wait for her in Diamond City. His status as a tourist put his relationship with Sofia in jeopardy, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but wasn’t entirely successful.

“Let me get this straight. We’ve dedicated a significant amount of time and resources to investigating and aiding Sofia, providing solid proof that she is a synth, and now not only has she cut ties with us and run off, possibly placing herself back into danger, but we’ve lost a tourist over the matter as well,” Carrington said. Foxtrot winced. She hated disappointing them.

“I know it doesn’t even begin to cover it, but… I’m really sorry things have turned out like this, everyone. I’m going to do my best to sort it out.”

“What exactly do you think that’s going to involve?” Des asked, all business.

“Forgive me, but I’m not sure if we need to do anything at all,” Carrington replied, glancing around. “You said Sofia has rejected our help and deliberately cut herself off - it’s safe to assume she doesn’t want to be found. If we track her down and meddle in this matter further it will likely only make things worse.”

“Are you kidding, doc? She’s already been shot up by raiders and captured by the L&L who knows when she’s going to get into danger again? She doesn’t have anybody looking out for her now!” Glory snarled. Foxtrot glanced at Deacon. He was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Glory has a point. We don’t know what might happen to her in the wasteland - however, I understand Carrington’s point of view,” Desdemona said, ever playing the mediator. “We had the option not to get involved before, and we arguably made things worse by doing so. I think in this case it would be better to respect her wishes and keep our distance. We can’t force our help onto those who aren’t looking for it, or else where do we draw the line?” At this, Glory appeared to think for a moment, before the fire went out of her eyes and she nodded.

“Fine. I get that. Well, I hope this makes you think twice about suggesting memory wipes to everybody. Maybe it was how you did stuff in the old days, but things are different now,” she said. Desdemona pinched the bridge of her nose.

“We should discuss this another-”

“Des, I swear to God, I love you but if you say ‘we should discuss this another time’ I _just_ might punch you,” Glory cut in. “If we’re not going to discuss it now, when _are_ we going to discuss it?”

“She has a point. This is exactly the kind of thing which should make us think about revising policy. We memory wipe synths to allow them to lead normal lives, but we’ve seen now that it doesn’t always even work. Sofia’s past caught up to her again, so that means we erased her memories for no reason,” Foxtrot said. She hated the feeling that she was ganging up on Desdemona, but the rare smile from Glory almost cancelled it out. The Alpha stared into space for a few moments, then sighed heavily.

“Alright, I can see the turn in the tide by now. Glory, you’ve been uneasy about them for a long time, and Charmer has never been fully on board, then we hear of this synth in Acadia who dislikes us for using them…”

“Medically, Amari certainly knows what she’s doing, but it’s always going to be risky,” Carrington said. “The trouble with the memory wipes is that although it’s highly unlikely for anything to go wrong, the potential consequences are grave.” At this, Glory frowned and looked away. _Of course._ A friend of hers had decided to go through with the memory wipe, and she’d been left in a coma instead. Whatever had happened about that..? Pushing the thought to one side for the moment, Foxtrot glanced at Deacon.

“Deacon? Any thoughts?”

“Memory wipes protected people from the Institute, because we had no idea what we were up against. We were trying to keep people safe from the boogeyman. These days, with them gone, things are different,” he said with a shrug. “I’m all for rethinking how we’re tackling these things.”

“Exactly. We have so many more options now that the Institute is gone. We don’t need memory wipes anymore,” Glory said.

“We can’t afford to abolish them completely,” Carrington folded his arms. Glory rounded on him.

“Why not? You know Sofia accused us of doing it only because it ‘made our jobs easier’. How far is that true?”

“That is part of it, and for good reason - this organisation is no good to anyone if we’re all dead. But it is only _part_ of why we carry out the memory wipes. The other reason is to allow synths to lead lives free from the worry of discovery.”

“But that doesn’t always work, does it?” Glory bit back.

“Please.” Desdemona held up a hand. “The memory wipes have a high success rate.”

“It’s high, but it’s not flawless,” Deacon pointed out.

“He’s right. Maybe we don’t need to get rid of them completely, but… the synths who come to us trust us, and I know we try and inform them as best we can, but they don’t always have that much world experience. If we push memory wipes over other options, they’ll go with it because they don’t really know what the implications of picking something else could be,” Foxtrot said.

“Are you saying that we rush the process?” Carrington asked.

“It could be a lot more careful,” Glory cut back.

“We don’t always have time. The longer we have a synth in play for, the more dangerous it becomes,” Desdemona said, folding her arms.

“But it’s not as dangerous as it was before,” Deacon pointed out. “I don’t wanna tempt fate, but things are really on the up. We’re back to pre-Switchboard levels.” Desdemona leant on the table, staring at the map and notes for a long time, then lit a cigarette.

“Fine. In future, we should present memory wipes as one option available, but not recommend them over any of the others. Does that sound like a good remedy?” she glanced around.

“It’s not perfect, but it’ll do,” Glory said. “I still think we should try and work with synths for longer. Adjust them more. Maybe even recruit them, like me.”

“Putting in place the means to do that could take longer, and we’ll need to get in touch with the safehouses, but you’re right,” Desdemona said. There was a general murmur of approval. “Very well. Foxtrot, could you work with Drummer Boy to get the new instructions out to the safehouses?”

“I… yes. Absolutely,” Foxtrot said. Desdemona tilted her head.

“Foxtrot? Is there a problem?” she asked, concern in her voice. Foxtrot felt a surge of affection. _Even after I fucked up on such a grand scale, she still cares._

“Sorry, it’s just that… I’ve been working on this Sofia thing for a while, it feels a little odd to drop it so suddenly.”

“You work in intel. You can get tourists to keep an eye out, but I’m not going to assign any resources to specifically tracking her down. I don’t think it would be the right course of action,” Des said, stubbing out her cigarette.

“I agree. We’re working to keep synths free. The least we can do is respect their choices, even if those choices aren’t what we’d like,” Carrington said.

“Yeah, you’re right, I just… don’t know how you can be so calm about it. I mean, you, Carrington, and Deacon, you guys _saved_ her _life._ And now she’s calling us liars and brain-wipers and cutting off all contact?”

“You don’t get it, Foxtrot,” Glory said. “Trusting people is hard, _really_ hard, when you’re a synth. I got lucky, joining the Railroad straight out of the Institute. I always had people around to watch my back.” She looked around with a little smile. “But this girl? My guess is she doesn’t have anyone, not really, and that means that now she’s a synth alone in the Commonwealth. She knows that this wasteland is full of people who’d put a bullet in her head for no reason other than what she is.”

“We were _trying_ to watch her back! I was trying to give her a support network!”

“It’s not the same thing. I don’t know the whole story, hell, I don’t even know half of the story. You knew her a lot better than I did. But I know she was captured by the L&L, and I know she was memory wiped by us and it’s really fucked her up, ‘cause she’s found out she’s a synth again. My guess? She’s real scared, and fear makes people do dumb shit.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Why can’t you just drop it, Foxtrot?” Glory cut her off as she tried to speak. “You’ve never been like this about any other job. You’ve worked intel on runs which have lasted months, and just moved on as soon as the job was done, and you’ve heard people shit talking us before. What’s different about this one?” Foxtrot hesitated for a moment.

“This one’s…. personal,” _We were locked in a metro tunnel together afraid for our lives. I saw her go from a synth-hater to a synth. We were trapped in the Switchboard together, and she hugged me. We fought a Behemoth side by side, and I saved her from falling off a building. I told her why I joined the Railroad._ “We were friends.”


	26. Haz - Back to Square One

Haz nodded to a security guard as he approached Diamond City, the huge chunks of the Wall looming up above him. He was normally glad to head to the Great Green Jewel for a few days - recruiting wasn’t a hard job, and it was comfortable - but now the city was just a painful reminder of Sofia.

He’d tried, on the way here, asking every caravanner he ran into, checking at every settlement on the road - _have you come across a woman, about my age, blonde hair,_ had to stop himself adding _beautiful_ each time, but nobody had been able to give him a straight answer. They shook their heads, said they were sorry, that they might have done but there were lots of blonde haired girls around. And they were right - Haz had a sneaking suspicion that she had left her bow behind because it made her too recognisable.

It was now slung across his back alongside his laser musket. He hadn’t been sure about taking it with him, but Colonel Garvey had been quiet for a long time when Haz had asked what to do, then said that he should keep hold of it. He’d said either she wanted him to have it, or she didn’t want it at all, so either way there was no harm in Haz taking it with him. In a way, Haz was glad of it. It felt like maybe, just maybe, it would somehow lead her back to him, like a red thread. He cursed himself for thinking that way and reminded himself that it was her decision as he walked through the gate and down into the city proper.

The first thing that struck him was how… _normal_ everything was. In the past couple of weeks or so his whole world had been turned upside down and shaken about, and yet seeing the marketplace with its bustling people, the guards scuffing their feet on the ground, it was a reminder that for everybody else, things were going on just as usual. He was jolted out of his daydreams as a childish shout cut through them.

“Read all about it! Is Sofia the singer coming back to Diamond City?”

“Hey.” Haz had to stop himself sprinting over to where Nat stood on her box, holding her bundle of papers. “What’s that you were saying about the singer?”

“The paper’s two caps, mister, but we do half price for Minutemen. Want one?” Nat held out a hand.

“I mean does it have any actual information about the singer?” Haz asked again, agitated. Nat raised her eyebrows.

“Publick Occurrences contains the highest quality investigative journalism in the Commonwealth. One cap, please,” she said, thrusting her hand at him again. Haz gave in, forked a bottlecap out of his pocket and took the paper.

**Is our singer returning soon?**

**It has now been over a week since Diamond City’s resident singer left for the Castle - and didn’t return. Interviewed in last week’s issue, Sofia arrived in Diamond City just over a month ago, setting up base in the Dugout Inn and entertaining everyone with her snappy songs and soulful tunes. Goodneighbor regulars will know live music is something usually confined to their own Third Rail bar, where the lovely Magnolia performs, and the Publick’s readers may be interested to know that Sofia spent time there herself - learning some secrets from the expert, maybe?**

**However, despite stating that she liked Diamond City in last week’s interview, it seems the call of adventure was too strong for Sofia, as she upped sticks and left for the Castle with a Minuteman recruiting party several days ago. The Publick’s reliable source informed us that she stayed at the Castle - giving lovely performances - for a few days, before vanishing. Nobody knows what happened in the intervening period, because all of a sudden she resurfaced again…**

Haz stopped reading, shoving the paper into his pocket. Clearly Piper wouldn’t have any information on Sofia’s whereabouts; she didn’t even know what had happened after they left the Castle. He hadn’t really been expecting anything to come of it anyway. Wandering, Haz caught himself staring blankly at the glowing red DETECTIVE sign that pointed to the Valentine Detective Agency. A specialist in finding missing people… he pushed the thought rapidly to one side. He _wasn’t_ going to go shoving himself on Sofia, insisting that she see him, insisting that she give him another chance. That wasn’t him. He would wait, here in Diamond City, where it was easy to find him if she wanted to, and he would keep her bow safe in case she ever wanted it back. That was all.

“Hey! Lieutenant? Lieutenant Harry Stewart?” Haz turned as he heard the call, and, albeit slightly guiltily, felt his heart sink as he saw who it was. Piper Wright. The journalist herself. How did she know who he was? He’d never really spoken to her.

“... Yes?” he said at length.

“Hey there, Piper Wright, Publick Occurrences-”

“I know who you are,” Haz said. He could hear the irritation in his own voice, and hated himself for it when he saw the reporter deflate ever so slightly, but she continued nevertheless. Indomitable.

“Well, that’s… good. Sorry to bother you, but I have it on good authority that you were with the singer, Sofia, when-”

“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh.” Piper’s face grew sombre. “What happened?”

“I thought you were an ‘investigative journalist’, not a gossip spreader,” Haz said, and cursed himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Piper flushed.

“Hey! It’s been a slow couple of weeks for news, okay? And look, this time I’m not even asking for the paper. I’m asking ‘cause I spoke to her and she seemed nice and yeah, maybe I _did_ write a news story about her but that’s because I’m, y’know, worried? I thought you might be too, given some of the things I’ve heard.”

“What things?”

“Well… I heard you two were pretty close. Very close, in fact.”

“You heard correctly,” Haz replied, after a moment’s hesitation. Piper sighed, and the genuine sadness in her eyes as she looked at him was surprising.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I - obviously - have no idea what’s really going on, but you don’t seem too chipper about it. I won’t press you for any details, but just know that Diamond City is hoping for its singer back home safe, and I hope you figure things out,” Piper said.

“... Thank you,” Haz replied, unsure of what else to say.

“Stay strong, okay? The Minutemen really need people like you. I hope whatever it is sorts itself out soon.” With that, she turned to leave. Haz was left standing in the street, speechless. So _that_ was why the General loved her.

 

That evening, Haz summoned his strength and headed for the Dugout. Part of him didn’t want to; it hit too close to home. It was where this had all started - meeting Sofia, talking to Foxtrot, sharing a drink. The cocktail of emotions that overwhelmed him when he thought about the Railroad agent was too confusing and infuriating for him to sort out at that moment. But at the same time, he could imagine the door opening and Sofia walking in, heading over to the bar as if she’d never left. When he saw the microphone standing in its corner with nobody behind it, he nearly turned around and walked out again, but the booming voice called across the bar before he could.

“Haz! My friend! It has been long time no see!”

“Hey, Vadim,” Had said, removing his hat and taking a seat at the bar. He shovelled some caps onto the counter. “Moonshine, please.” All at once, concern covered the bartender’s comically expressive face.

“That is not your usual, Haz. What happened? Is it to do with Sofia? You know we here at Dugout have been very worried, all this business, disappearing, reappearing-”

“Reappearing? What?” Haz’s head shot up.

“Did you not read Piper’s article? She disappeared from Castle, and pops up again in Sanctuary! Crazy world.” Vadim shook his head, and Haz felt the hope that had temporarily filled him vanish once more.

“Oh. Right.”

“So you were not part of this? What are you doing here without her?”

“It’s… look, it’s a long story, Vadim, and I don’t really feel like telling it. Can I just have the moonshine?”

“Of course, my friend, of course.” Vadim poured out a shot. Haz felt the world blur for a moment as he downed it. Everything had fallen apart. Last time he was here in this bar drinking, he had the whole world in front of him. A lovely girl he was hitting it off with. A hesitant friend had walked through the door. A bottle of whiskey on the table. Now what did he have? Just moonshine. Sofia was gone, Foxtrot was gone - _that wasn’t her doing, though, that was yours,_ a voice at the back of his head said.

 _But Sofia wouldn’t even be gone, and I wouldn’t have_ needed _to leave the Railroad if it wasn’t for Foxtrot and her stupid memory wipe suggestion._

 _Maybe, but maybe you could have talked them down - talked them_ both _down. Maybe you could’ve spoken to Foxtrot beforehand, or to Sofia before. Let her know the protocol and prepared her for the possibility that Foxtrot might have to suggest it. Was it_ really _Foxtrot’s fault? Or was it_ yours? _Maybe it was_ all yours.

Haz could barely hear the sound of his own voice over the one in his head as he ordered another moonshine, desperate to shut it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short update after 25 being a pretty long chapter (by this fic's standards anyway)!   
> I'm also pretty aware that this isn't the happiest chapter to leave on, so don't worry! Only four left to go, and the Christmas short (which I know is a bit late, but it's still the Christmas season, so whatever).


	27. Sofia - Recollections (Part One)

Sofia looked up at the neon sign, glowing in the fog. _Goodneighbor._ It had been a while. But where better to fall between the cracks? She was too prolific in Diamond City, and she didn’t feel safe hopping Minuteman settlements, as much because of the dangers of travelling the wasteland as because it would make it all the easier for Haz to find her. She didn’t want him following her, didn’t want to see him again - _not yet._ But here? Goodneighbor welcomed her like a friend - a drunken, sky-high friend, but a friend nonetheless. If there was one place she could put her head down and stay low, where people would just nod and move on when she said she didn’t want to talk, it was here. Where ‘and if anybody asks, you never saw me’ was a way of life.

She kept her scarf draped around her head as she walked the streets, trying to keep away prying eyes, but hoped the chances of her getting recognised were low enough anyway. Not many people in Goodneighbor would recognise her from her time there, and still fewer would glance twice at her as she was now. She looked like nothing more than a tired scavver, so she headed down into the Third Rail. It was evening and the crowds were pouring in, searching for a hit, a drink, a lover, or just a warm place. The heat made her face tingle as she walked down the stairs, hearing Magnolia’s voice floating up from below.

“A whiskey, please,” she said, dropping the caps onto the counter. Whitechapel Charlie scooped them up, eyes refocusing on her as he did so.

“Do I recognise you from somewhere?”

“No,” Sofia replied. The robot gave the best approximation of a nod he could, a kind of bob, and turned to fill a small glass like she’d asked. She thanked him, and took it to a corner where she wouldn’t be bothered. What was she going to do now? The question wouldn’t leave her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking of them.

Kissing Haz in the rain, and feeling the world stop around her.

Hugging Foxtrot in the Switchboard, realising the Railroad weren’t just faceless spooks.

The memories surfaced unbidden and unwanted, and wouldn’t go away. She wanted to get rid of it all, forget that any of this ever happened. _But that’s never going to work, is it?_ Too much had changed. She knew she was a synth now. She would never know if her village was destroyed because of her, because the Institute were trying to recover her. What if they _had?_ What if she’d kept her memories, and known enough to save them? What if the Railroad were lying about everything, what if they memory wiped everyone regardless of whether or not they wanted it, what if they thought they were helping synths but what is it they say about the road to hell? _Paved with good intentions?_

Sofia took a swig of whiskey as she felt the thoughts overwhelm her. No. That wasn’t rational thinking. If they really did forcibly wipe everyone, why would Foxtrot have even brought it up with her? She would’ve just lied, said they needed to do some other procedure… or simply knocked her out. No, the Railroad weren’t wholly evil. Memories rose…

_A grinning caravanner, wearing sunglasses, telling her they’d get her somewhere safe._

_The blasts of laser muskets and sounds of explosions, the roar of the Behemoth, then panic as the bat swung down, the bricks crumbling beneath her feet, falling, falling - stopping with a jolt as she gripped Foxtrot’s hand tightly._

_Foxtrot’s face in the dim glow of the lamp, saying “I guess I suddenly felt ‘fuck it, that’s human enough for me, human enough that we shouldn’t be doing this.’”_

They couldn’t be nothing but a conspiracy. But how could she ever trust them? There were so many layers of lies and secrets. _I mean, they say they do these memory wipes, but who even-_

Suddenly, Sofia realised.

_Of course._

_Of_ course, _I’m such an idiot - why did I never realise before?_

There was one person in the Commonwealth who would have the knowledge to remove parts of people’s memories.

And she was right here in Goodneighbor.

 

Sofia had always stayed away from the Memory Den when she had lived in Goodneighbor - the gaudy red lights and pre-war posters made it seem more like a brothel, and there were rumours about people getting hooked on it, becoming so obsessed they were practically stuck in the past. To top it all off, she’d asked a watchman about it not long after arriving, asked if this Doctor Amari would be able to recover lost memories. He’d laughed at her, not unkindly, and said that they could only replay old memories, ones you had. None of hers were ones she wanted to relive. She treasured the time she’d spent on the farm down south, but she knew that if she went back there, it would make returning to the present unbearable. So she’d kept her distance.

Now, however, the doors flew open and she strode in, emboldened by the alcohol. A woman in a feathered dress, reclining on a red chaise-longue, raised her eyebrows as she approached. Irma.

“You! Where’s Amari?” Sofia demanded.

“You looking for a memory, dear? I can set you up, if you-”

“I’m not looking for a memory. I’m looking for Doctor Amari,” Sofia cut her off.

“She’s working downstairs right now, if you come back tomorrow- she’s very busy!” Irma got up, panicked, as Sofia started storming her way towards the stairs. _I’m finding out the truth about these wipes, and I’m finding it out now. And…._

_Maybe there’s a chance she can reverse them, too._

She heard Irma’s heels clacking on the floorboards, and her worried calls, but didn’t stop as she made her way behind the screen which once formed the backstage area of the theatre, and down the stairs. She rounded the corner and burst through the door, in time to see Amari with a tool in her hand, and getting up out of a chair -

“ _Valentine?”_ She was so surprised, it escaped before she could stop it.

“What the - who are you?” Amari demanded, putting down the tool she had been holding and advancing. “Irma, didn’t I say not to let-”

“I tried to stop her, dear, but she just barged past!”

“I - I -” Sofia tried to summon up the words she’d had racing through her head, the accusations and the questions and the demands, but the presence of Valentine had completely thrown her for a loop. She settled for: “Don’t you recognise me?” Amari frowned at her, squinted, then an expression of uncertainty fell over her face.

“Irma… head back upstairs and make sure the clients are fine. Nick, if you could-”

“He knows what this is about,” Sofia said as Irma left, shutting the door behind her. “But what is he _doing_ here?”

“Getting a few repairs done to the old capacitors. Amari’s the only one I trust with ‘em,” Valentine said, glancing between Sofia and the doctor.

“Funny. I’m here about something almost similar,” Sofia said.

“Now, you’ve lost me. I think I know who you are, but how you’ve come back here, and why, is… beyond me,” Amari frowned, worried.

“Guess you found the truth, huh?” Valentine said, looking at Sofia warily. She stared back at him, forcing herself not to flinch at those glowing yellow eyes, and nodded.

“I know I’m a synth. I know I underwent a memory wipe six years ago, and I know that you did it,” she said to Amari. She was pushing that last point, but she was certain enough to take the risk. Amari stared at her for a long moment, then spoke.

“How did you find out?” Sofia nearly laughed.

“It’s kind of a long story, and I’m not here to tell stories. I’m here to listen. Tell me the truth about the memory wipes.”

“The truth? I don’t understand. Are the Railroad aware you’re here?” “Here, talking to you? No. Here in the Commonwealth? Yes. You mean you didn’t know?”

“I was not informed,” Amari said flatly. “If you know anything about them, you should know they’re not the most forthcoming, although for good reason.”

“Look, this seems… personal, so I’ll take my leave. Thanks, doc,” Valentine said, adjusting his hat. Sofia turned as he left.

“Wait - I mean, will you wait outside? I think once I’m done here I’ll… want to speak to you.” Confusion crossed the battered synth’s face as she spoke, but he nodded nonetheless.

“Uh… Sure. I’ll... be upstairs,” he said, and as the door clicked shut behind him, Sofia turned back to Amari.

“So?”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. We perform memory wipes on synths to remove their knowledge of the Institute. Back before the Institute was destroyed, this made it a lot easier to hide synths from them - it allowed people to live out normal lives as perfectly normal people,”

“And all these people chose this? Chose to have their memories taken away?”

“Of _course_ they chose,” Amari’s face was horrified. “You don’t seriously think we would wipe memories without full consent, do you?”

“I…” Sofia thought of Glory, and her offhand remark during the confrontation with Foxtrot suddenly came back to her. _‘Don’t look at me. I never took the memory wipe.’_ In the heat of the moment, she’d barely noticed. Glory was a synth who worked for the Railroad. A synth who hadn’t been memory wiped, and still supported them. She had to believe that they had synths’ best interests at heart. “No. I… I guess not. I just couldn’t believe that you did this to so many people...”

“We fully explain the risks involved, and check at every single stage if people still want to go through with it. I’m sorry if you were ever under the impression that was not the case,”

“And me? Do you remember me… before?” Sofia said, feeling her heart skip a beat. Amari looked at her with sad eyes.

“I remember more now. We didn’t have much success that year. You were in a very bad state when you were brought to me - injured, although another doctor had saved your life from the gunshot wounds. You were suffering from memory loss.”

“That was real?”

“Yes, it wasn’t just a cover story. The wounds really had damaged your memories, which made things complicated. Normally, I can implant a few false recollections into the mind, enough to give it something to attach itself to and give the impression that no memories were removed at all. But in your case… that would not be possible, due to the wounds. We explained the situation, and you decided to go through with the memory wipe anyway, on the basis that you had not much to lose, and the chance of a peaceful life to gain.” As Amari spoke, Sofia felt tears threaten to rise up in her eyes, although she wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe the realisation that she was speaking to one of the only people on the planet who knew her before her memories had been wiped. The real her. _Or was it? Was that the ‘real’ you?_ She didn’t know anymore.

“I… I chose it.”

“You did. But I don’t understand - how is it that you are back in the Commonwealth, how is it that you know these things?”

“It didn’t work. I mean - the memory wipe did. But not the ‘peaceful life’ bit,” Sofia said, swallowing hard. “The Institute destroyed my town. I came here, lots of things happened, and… a Railroad agent told me I was a synth. But that’s not important. I have one last question for you,”

“Yes?”

“Can you… reverse it? Can you bring them back?”

“Oh, my child…” Amari sighed. “I am afraid the effects of the wipe are completely permanent. There is nothing I can do to help.”

“I see,” Sofia managed to say, feeling the tears well up. That last shred of hope, gone. Furthermore, the creeping realisation that all of her angry words had been for nothing. Maybe the memory wipe _had_ ruined her life, or at least… impacted it in huge ways, but was the Railroad really to blame for that? She’d chosen it, and so had all the others. Amari seemed so calm, almost motherly; the whole process seemed less sinister. Sofia took a deep breath. “What was I like? Before?”

“Are you really sure you want to go down that route?” Amari asked.

“Tell me,” Sofia insisted. The doctor sighed.

“You were… scared, mostly. It was raiders that had attacked you, L&L, or whatever the version of them was that existed then. You were scared of them, scared of the judgement of the people of the Commonwealth. Most of all you were scared of the Institute. Terrified. Everyone was, but none more so than those who had escaped it. I wish I could tell you more.”

“Was everyone who came to you scared?”

“Not all. Some didn’t take the memory wipe.”

“Glory.”

“You know Glory?”

“I’ve met her.”

“Even she was scared, although she would never admit it. She simply chose something different. But those who did come to me to have their memories erased, their identities changed? They did so because they wanted their fear to end. They wanted the chance to live, truly live, like any other, even if it meant leaping into the unknown.”

“I… I see,” Sofia said, choked up. _I never should’ve got so angry at Foxtrot. I never should’ve cut ties, or ended things with Haz, or run away. I’ve made so many mistakes._

“Are you alright?” Amari said, voice full of concern. Sofia nodded, wiping her eyes and swallowing.

“I - I’ve really fucked up,” she said. “A Railroad agent - a… a friend… suggested a memory wipe to me. Not really suggested, more like… brought up. It was at a really bad time, and I got really angry with her, and it _wasn’t_ the right time to suggest one to me, but I… I told her I was done with the Railroad, and I ran off, and now…”

“You’ve been through so much. I’m truly sorry you had to, but I hope you know how strong you are,” Amari said. “And I think… you should speak to the man you asked to wait upstairs.”

“I think you’re right. But… thank you,” Sofia said. “For giving me some answers.”

“You’re welcome, my child. I hope you find some peace one day,” Amari said.

 

Valentine stood up as Sofia approached, face full of questions.

“Let’s walk,” she said, and he nodded. Once they were outside, he took out a packet of cigarettes and offered it to her. “I don’t smoke.”

“Alright.” He lit one himself, the orange glow lighting his face. “So… I’ve gotta say, last time we met you didn’t exactly seem too keen on talking. What’s this about?” Sofia flushed at the memory.

“Look, I… I’m a synth.” She lowered her voice. “We found it, the facts, the files, everything. I’m a synth, and I don’t know what that… means. I don’t know if it changes who I am. Now I know I took a memory wipe, but I don’t know anything about the person I was before I took it. What if we’re completely different? Did the synth who took that memory wipe think that she’d turn into… me? I hated synths for a long time! What would she have thought?” Valentine walked in silence for a while, the smoke from his cigarette billowing gently out of the holes in his neck. It still took all of her strength not to shudder.

“It’s pretty obvious I’m not a synth like you, or any others, really,” he said eventually.

“You’re a Gen 2.” It was hard to keep the accusation from her voice.

“Functionally, yes, but not fully. Gen 2’s, as I think you know, aren’t self-aware. They’re not really much more complex than Protectrons where artificial intelligence is concerned. But me?” He chuckled. “Not to flatter myself too much, but I have an actual personality. I guess you’ve wondered where it came from.”

“I suppose so. Everybody knows Gen 2s - well, most Gen 2s - are just robots. You’re… different.”

“Yes, well, where it gets complicated is that the personality isn't… mine, as such. I don’t talk about this much, so count yourself lucky.” He glanced sideways at her. “‘Nick Valentine’ was, long story short, a pre-War personality who got downloaded into me. I’m a prototype.”

“God…” Sofia muttered softly. She’d had no idea.

“Now, that poses a lot of questions. Where does Nick the Human end and Nick the Synth begin? I have his voice, his personality, hell, even some of his damn memories. But he’s not me. So what I’m saying to _you_ -” he stopped, and faced her, cigarette dangling from that skeletal hand, “-Is that you can’t think in ‘before’ and ‘after’. You can’t think of ‘Sofia before the memory wipe’ and ‘Sofia now’. There’s just you, and whatever you have that’s unique to you. That’s who you are.”

Her friends and family at the ranch.

Her songs.

Foxtrot.

Haz.

“That’s… who I am,” she repeated slowly. A smile crossed Valentine’s face, and suddenly he didn’t look like a Gen 2 synth any more. Nothing could be further from the blank, dead faces she thought of - he was battered and scarred and creased. He looked like Nick Valentine. “Thank you,” she said, surprised by her own sincerity as a lump started to form in her throat again. “Thank you so much.” Almost without meaning to, she took a step towards the old synth and put her arms around him. He hesitated, caught by surprise, before giving her a pat on the back.

“Hey, by the way…” he said as she pulled back again.

“Hm?”

“Apparently there’s a few things left back at the Castle that you might want to go and pick up,” he said. Sofia frowned for a moment, then her eyes went wide.

“My PipBoy!” Nick nodded.

“As a matter of fact, I’m headed down there tomorrow to drop in on Diana. I appreciate you might not exactly want to travel with me, but-”

“I’ll come,” Sofia cut him off. Maybe she was still a little disconcerted, but that didn’t matter. He _understood._ Furthermore, she had some explaining to do to Diana. And, as a Railroad agent and as General of the Minutemen… Sofia wondered if maybe she could put her back in contact with a couple of people that she now desperately needed to find.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iiiit's another two parter! I thought I was done editing for the day, but I was wrong.   
> As an actual Author's Note, this chapter is probably one of my absolute favourites in this fic, so I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	28. Sofia - Recollections (Part Two)

It was afternoon by the time Sofia and Nick walked up to the gates of the Castle. The salvaged lion statues looked down on them, the guards nodded as they passed. Nick was a well known figure. Sofia even noticed a couple of glances her way, too. As usual, the Castle was a hub of activity; a Minuteman tested out a laser musket at the firing range, a group of people trooped into the library - she guessed for a class - and clanking sounds floated on the air as someone repaired a turret up on the walls. Sofia followed Nick through the corridors, coming to a halt in front of the large double doors that lead to the General’s quarters. There was no ambiguity about it, since the doorway was marked ‘GENERAL’ in neon letters. _Subtle._ Valentine knocked.

“I hope she’s actually around-” he was cut off as the door was wrenched open, revealing a grinning Diana. “Nick! You didn’t tell me you were coming- oh, shit!” she swore as she looked past Nick and at Sofia, who bit her lip. “What are you doing here? You know people have been going crazy since you left Sanctuary, right?”

“I’m sorry…” Sofia said. Diana stood for a moment, then beckoned them both in, shutting the door behind them. Sofia looked around curiously. Clear remnants of the old-style, grandiose decor remained - there were finely carved cabinets, a bureau with glass doors and sombre paintings of men who Sofia assumed had been important before the war. However, these clashed with the other decorations that had been strewn around: strings of lights, potted plants, and Nuka-Cola pinups.

“Okay, what exactly happened?” the General asked. “I mean, did you…?”

“It’s… kind of a long story,” Sofia replied, feeling a lump rise up in her throat. Diana noticed and waved her towards the sofa in the corner.

“Right, take a seat, take a seat… want a drink? I got - uhhh - Nuka cherry, regular Nuka Cola and some beer. It’s cold, too!” the General said as she opened what appeared to be a working refrigerator.

“Umm… a Nuka Cherry? If that’s alright?” Sofia said quietly.

“Gotcha.” Diana strolled back over, cracking open the drinks and sitting down in an armchair opposite Sofia and Nick. She took a long gulp of her beer. “So… I’ve gotta say I’m surprised to see you pitch up here with Nick.”

“I’m sure I would’ve been too, when we first met,” Sofia replied with a slight blush, both out of annoyance and embarrassment.

“Turns out we’ve got a bit more to talk about than first thought,” Nick said.

“Shit.” Diana sat back, eyebrows raised, as Sofia finished filling her in on the events that had occurred since they had last seen each other. “You really thought all that about the Railroad?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” Sofia snapped, defensive. “You know I spent a long time not really trusting them. I _still_ think they’re too cagey.”

“You know, I actually agree with you there.”

“Really?” “Sure, back when we still had the Institute to worry about, the insane levels of compartmentalisation and shit made sense - the less people knew, the safer they were. The fewer people knew a secret, the more likely it was to _stay_ a secret. But we’re not up against the Institute anymore.”

“No, you’re up against raiders or the Brotherhood for the most part, who aren’t quite as… subtle,” Nick said with a raised eyebrow. Diana nodded to him.

“Exactly.”

“So why haven’t you changed it?”

“Me? I don’t _run_ the Railroad, not by a long shot. Hell, I’m just an upstart compared to most people there. I’ve told them I think we can let people know a bit more these days, but… you’ve gotta understand, the leaders of the Railroad have been doing this for years. I’ve seen some of the logs, and the shit they’ve been through? They lived through the bad old days, when they were lucky to get even two synths out a year. There was infighting, HQ changed so many times, there were hardly any members... The paranoia is kinda understandable.”

“I suppose… I just got used to not trusting them before I knew I was a synth, it was easy to fall back into it when I was angry with Foxtrot. Now I’ve ruined everything,” Sofia said.

“You’d be surprised how often things can still be fixed when you think that,” Nick said.

“I yelled at her, I told her I was done with the Railroad, I broke it off with Haz and ran away. How do I come back from that?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Diana said. “Talking to me and Nick. That’s progress,”

“But I still don’t know how I feel! About the secrets, about the memory wipes, any of it! I’d feel like I could never really know if I was talking to the real person!”

“You know _I’m_ in the Railroad,” Diana said. “Do you think I’m real?”

“You’re… different,” _You’re the General of the Minutemen and you’re 200 years old, you reformed the Minutemen and slew the monster at the Castle, you lead the charge into the Institute and blew it up. You’re more legend than woman at this point anyway._ Diana laughed.

“What you see is what you get. But being in the Railroad doesn’t make people automatically hide behind huge elaborate lies and false identities,”

“I understand, I just… wish I knew more,” Sofia said. Diana stared at her for a long time, and exchanged a glance with Nick. Something unspoken passed between them, which Sofia didn’t quite understand.

“Nick, are you okay to wait here for a day or so? I know you came to see me, but something’s… come up.” “Sure thing. I’ve got cases to work on around here too.” Nick said, getting up with a knowing smile. “I’ll see you there at some point?”

“Count on it,” she said as the detective opened the door. Sofia stood up, confused.

“Wait, I… thank you, Mister Valentine,” she said. He nodded and raised a hand as he left. Sofia looked back to Diana. “What do you mean? What’s ‘come up’?”

“Thought you might want this back,” Diana tossed something to her, which she caught. Her PipBoy! She buckled it back on. “You ready?”

“I don’t - where are we going? What are you planning to do?”

“Something I really shouldn’t,” Diana replied, and grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! It's been like a year! Sorry about that! I have no real excuses, only that you know when that thing called 'life' happens and then more stuff happens and then you don't do things you've been vaguely intending on doing for literal months?   
> Yeah. That.


	29. Foxtrot - A Successful Run

“How are you holding up?” Drummer Boy asked as he placed a cup of coffee down next to Foxtrot. She looked up from her report, rubbing her eyes.

“Ugh, thanks, DB, I needed this,” she said, taking a long draught. The warmth spread through her cold hands as she wrapped them around the mug. “I’m… fine.”

“Really?” he looked at her, skeptical. “You’ve hardly slept, and I don’t think you’d be eating anything if we hadn’t been leaving noodle bowls on your desk.”

“You know I don’t sleep much,” she said, fiddling with her pencil. “I’ve been working on compiling the latest stuff for the southern safehouses.”

“Yeah, but there’s a line between working hard and running yourself into the ground,” Drummer Boy said gently. Foxtrot took a sip of her coffee and sighed.

“You’re right, and I hate it when that happens,” she said, grinning in spite of everything. He chuckled. “I know, it’s just a good distraction.”

“From the whole Sofia thing?”

“Yeah. I hate how it ended. I mean… I didn’t just screw up our ‘friendship’, if you can call it that, I screwed up her relationship with Waywatcher as well. And lost us a tourist. And I mean… what, I’m just supposed to forget about it and leave it and never speak to her again? It feels… wrong.”

“I’m sure you could find her if you really wanted to.”

“And what could I possibly say to her?” Foxtrot said, leaning back in her chair and shrugging. “‘Hi, sorry for finding you using the intel network that freaks you out so much, and sorry for suggesting memory wiping you and then causing the end of your relationship! I’ll be going now!’? Come on.”

“Look, I know you’re being sarcastic, but apologies can get you a long way.”

“I’m not really sure she’d be willing to listen. She seemed set against us in... pretty much every way.”

“Yeah, but wasn’t that about the memory wipes thing? We’ve changed that now.”

“Maybe… look, I don’t know. I’m not going to get the chance to say anything, so I don’t see the point in brooding over it,” Foxtrot said. Haz and Sofia were gone. Drummer Boy looked at her, concern written all over his open face, and gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“Hey. Hope things look up for you soon - oh, that’s the door. Gotta go!” he looked up as the sound of the main door shutting was faintly heard, and darted off to see who the arrival was and update them on any messages they needed to hear. Foxtrot watched him go, then turned back to her work, twirling the pencil around her fingers and taking another sip of coffee. The voices at the door were faint, but still audible - Charmer’s unmistakeable voice, naturally loud, and Drummer Boy’s deep murmur, but there was someone else - wait.

No.

_That’s impossible._

Foxtrot stood up, work forgotten, and rushed to the door.

Standing there, wide-eyed and scruffy, was Sofia.

They stared at each other for a few moments.

“I… I don’t get it,” Foxtrot said eventually. Charmer looked at her.

“Look, I know we’re not supposed to just bring people down here, but-”

“Charmer, what am I gonna tell Des?” Drummer Boy hissed, lowering his voice.

“Look, it’s fine, this is on me, okay?”

“General, what _is_ this place? Is it-” Sofia started to ask as Charmer lead her down the stairs, and then the passage opened out into the catacombs of HQ.

“Welcome to Railroad HQ, Sofia,” Charmer said with a grin. Foxtrot just continued to stare, mouth slightly open.

“You - you can’t just - I mean -”

“What’s going on?” Foxtrot cringed as Desdemona’s voice rang out across the room, and she saw her boss walking around the central table towards them. _She’s not going to be happy about this._ “Charmer, who’s this?”

“Des!” Charmer said, putting on her biggest grin and using her cheeriest voice. “Okay, look, how about I just explain the situation...” she took Des aside, glancing over her shoulder and giving Foxtrot a nearly imperceptible wink. Foxtrot took her chance.

“Sofia-”

“Foxtrot-”

“I just-”

“No, I meant-”

“Just… step over here a moment,” Foxtrot took Sofia around a corner and sat down on a crate of supplies, gesturing for her to do the same. Foxtrot took a deep breath-

“I’m sorry,” Sofia said it first. Stole the words right out of her mouth. “I am so, so sorry for what I said and did. I was angry, and scared, and confused, but I shouldn’t have run.” For a moment, Foxtrot just stared, nearly unable to process what she was hearing.

“I - _I’m_ sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry for being so stupid, for being so ignorant and blind and suggesting something like that at such a bad time.”

“Maybe it _was_ a bad time, but I still shouldn’t have reacted like I did,” Sofia said. “I didn’t understand how it all worked, why you really carried out the memory wipes. I didn’t know why I might have chosen it before.”

“And I didn’t realise how you would see things, how it would look to someone who wasn’t used to them. You know we’ve changed policy? Nobody suggests memory wipes over any other option now. We still offer them, but we don’t push them over anything else,” Foxtrot said, desperate to get it out in case somehow this moment passed, in case she woke up and found herself slumped over her desk with her report stuck to her face. But no, Sofia was taking her hands, tears in her eyes. This was real. This wasn’t a dream.

“So, what do you say?” Sofia whispered. “... Friends?” Swallowing the lump in her throat, Foxtrot nodded.

“Better count on it,” she said, voice wavering, and leant forward as Sofia did. They hugged, long and tight, and Foxtrot wiped away tears as they pulled apart. “I still don’t… how are you here?”

“I… spoke to Doctor Amari, and Nick Valentine, and General Ridley. They… gave me some answers,” Sofia replied. They both looked up as Charmer herself appeared, alongside Desdemona.

“We’re all sorted. Foxtrot, I sort of feel like you should do the introductions.”

“Don’t you want to? I mean… you made this happen,” Foxtrot glanced between Sofia and Charmer.

“Nah. You two did,” she said.

“Well… Des, this is Sofia. My friend,” Foxtrot said, exchanging a little smile with Sofia as she did so. “And Sofia, this is Desdemona. Leader of the Railroad.”

“Although unexpected, and more than a little unorthodox, it’s good to meet you,” Desdemona said, extending a hand.

“You too,” Sofia replied, cautiously taking it. “I take it you don’t usually let just anybody in here.”

“No, we don’t. Not even all of the members of this organisation know the location of HQ-”

“Charmer, who is this? I take it she’s with you, anyway?” an irritable voice cut across Desdemona. Carrington made his way towards them, then stopped as he saw Sofia properly. His eyes widened ever so slightly. “Wait, you’re-”

“Charmer’s discussed it with me, Carrington, it’s fine,” Desdemona murmured to her colleague.

“Are you… the doctor?” Sofia said, taking a hesitant step towards him.

“Sofia, this is Doc Carrington. Second in command around here, and our doctor. Doc… well, you know who this is,” Foxtrot said.

“You saved my life,” Sofia said, after shaking his hand. “I’d… like to take the opportunity now to thank you.”

“Yes, well… that hardly seems relevant given what you’ve been through now,” Carrington said brusquely, glancing away.

“It’s relevant to me. I spoke to Amari. I wouldn’t be alive at all if it weren’t for you. Thank you.”

“I… yes. It was nothing,” Carrington replied. “I should really get back to my work.” He walked away, back to his station.

“Did I… say something wrong?” Sofia looked back to the others, eyes big and worried. Diana chuckled.

“Not at all. That’s just Carrington for you. I don’t think he really knows how to handle gratitude.”

“It doesn’t exactly come our way very often,” Foxtrot said. She smiled. “It’s nice.”

“I - wait, is Damon here?” Sofia looked around.

“Damon? Wait - do you mean Deacon?”

“I... “

“Hey, kid,” Sofia turned as Deacon approached her, and frowned.

“You’re not… wait. Your voice…”

“I like to switch the face around every once in awhile. Keeps things fresh, you know?” Deacon said. “Voices I haven’t found a way around yet.” Foxtrot smiled to herself as she saw Sofia’s expression shift from confusion to recognition. Deacon really was something else.

“It _is_ you! You took me out of the Commonwealth!”

“Uh, yeah,”

“Well… thank you. The place you took me to…” she broke off, a bittersweet expression on her face, “It was wonderful. And I have you to thank.”

“Hey, we’re just doing our jobs,” Deacon shrugged. “We were supposed to help you lead a normal life. Kinda screwed up on that one, or else you wouldn’t be here.”

“It wasn’t your fault, though,” Sofia said, and Foxtrot’s heart burst to hear it. They’d come a long way from the ruined house where Sofia had dragged her off a sofa and slammed her into a wall. “So please… just take the damn credit, will you? I need to get this off my chest.”

“I… sure. You’re welcome,” Deacon said. “I’ll accept your payment of two thousand caps in the morning,” he cracked a grin, and Foxtrot rolled her eyes good-naturedly.

“Look, I think this is an occasion which calls for a drink or two,” Charmer said, grinning. Des, who had wandered back over to the central table, looked up from the map she’d been studying.

“What are you thinking of?” “Oh, I think this calls for the fine vintage,” Diana headed over to a steamer trunk behind the table.

“Does that say… ‘Shit I’ve Stolen From The Brotherhood’?” Sofia squinted at the label scrawled onto the side of the trunk.

“Yup,” Foxtrot laughed. “I’m pretty sure it’s half the reason she sticks around with them, along with the actual power it gives her to curb their bullshit.” Charmer pulled out a bottle of whiskey and some glasses.

“It’s customary to take a drink for a successful run, and I think that this, as weird a situation as it might be, still kinda qualifies, don’t you?” she said, thrusting glasses into the waiting hands of anybody who happened to be around and cracking open the bottle. “If I’m remembering right, this is from the Command Deck of the Prydwen - I shoved it down the front of my Power Armour as Maxson turned his back to stare out of that big-ass window of his,” Diana said, to scattered laughs and cheers, as she poured out the whiskey.

“To a successful run,” Desdemona said, raising her glass.

“A successful run!” came the response, and as she drank Foxtrot felt more than just the fire of the whiskey warm her. _This is the way it should be._

 

The flurry of introductions and congratulations had died down and Charmer had left once more. Sat down on one of the mattresses in the back corridor, Sofia had just finished telling Foxtrot everything that had happened - her conversation with Amari, talking with Nick Valentine, and how she had come to be in the Railroad headquarters. However, there was one thing missing.

“What about Haz?” Foxtrot asked. Sofia lifted her head and looked at her.

“What… about Haz?”

“Well, I mean, when are we going to go and find him?” Sofia looked away. “Sofia?”

“I don’t know if I should do that,”

“What? Sofia, why not?”

“Because, I -” she broke off, struggling to find words. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I find him again. I have no idea how to restart whatever it was that I ended. He probably hates me for running off like that.”

“If you think he’s not pining his ass off for you right now, you’ve got no business being with him anyway, because you don’t know him as well as you think,” Foxtrot said, and Sofia looked at her as if she’d been slapped.

“Pining?”

“The morning after you left, he burst into my room _shouting.”_

“He… did? Saying what?”

“Lots of stuff. Saying it was my fault and that it was too late, and… He said that there were still things he wanted to tell you. Chances he wanted to take. But he didn’t want to go after you, because it was your decision to leave.”

“He didn’t try to follow me?”

“No. But not because he didn’t care. Because he _did,”_ Foxtrot said. “So goddamn much. He was nearly in tears.”

“I… oh my god,” Sofia folded in on herself, tears spilling from her eyes. Foxtrot panicked, awkwardly placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey. We can still fix this, you know? I mean, if you can come down into the Railroad HQ, anything’s possible, right?”

“I’m just so _sorry_ , for all of this, it’s all my fault-”

“No. I don’t want to get into some kind of… guilt competition with you, alright? Because I’ve been under the impression that this whole thing was my fault since it happened, and I’m sure when we meet him again Haz will try and claim it was all down to _him._ Truth is, I think we just have to accept we’re all in it together.”

“You’re right,” Sofia said, wiping her eyes. “I suppose we’ll never get anything done if we keep arguing over who’s to blame,” she tried a small smile, which Foxtrot returned.

“Yeah. But the truth is, I tried moving on from this like it never happened, and maybe I would’ve forgotten if I’d given it more time, but it just… didn’t seem to be working.”

“It’s the same for me. I wanted to just go to Goodneighbour and keep my head down for a while, whilst I figured things out for myself, but I… I kept thinking of you. And Haz.”

“And that right there is all the proof you need that you should see him again,” Foxtrot said.

“Maybe, but… I have no idea where he is,” Sofia said. Foxtrot smiled slowly, and took out her notebook.

“I do,” she said.


	30. Haz - Unlikely Friends

Haz sat on a bench looking out over Diamond City’s crop fields, eating some mutfruit despondently. He was grateful to the Minutemen on duty at the recruitment office, who had been understanding about the whole situation and seemed content enough to let him do whatever he wanted. It wasn’t as if he’d be much use recruiting people in the state he was in, anyway - recruitment needed enthusiasm. _It’s not as if you’re much use for anything at all in the state you’re in,_ part of him whispered. It had been pretty persistent over the last couple of days, despite his best efforts. Vadim - or more specifically Yefim - had eventually cut off his moonshine supply the previous evening, concerned for his health and wellbeing, but Haz wasn’t sure if it had helped or hindered. At the end of the day, nothing was helping him shake off the feeling that he’d _failed._ That somewhere along the line - probably multiple places, in fact - he’d made a mistake. That all of this could’ve been avoided if he’d just been more discreet, or more vigilant, or more careful.

The worst thing was that he’d _believed._ Those nights, in the Switchboard and at Starlight and in Sanctuary, he’d really believed that they were becoming friends. A group that would last beyond the calling that had initially pushed them together. Instead, they’d scattered to the winds abruptly, without warning, and without ceremony. And now he didn’t know if he was ever going to see either of them again.

He stood up, slowly pacing the paths back to the Dugout. He didn’t know where else to go, and although it was barely midday, drinking seemed as good a way as any to fill the time since he wasn’t a chem user. Even better, the bar was usually practically empty at this time of day. The steel door squealed as he opened it, his boots clumped along the concrete floors as he walked down the corridor. He looked up.

Then his whole world stopped.

Standing at the bar, talking to Vadim as if she’d never been gone.

Sofia.

And by her side, a familiar figure in battered leather.

Foxtrot.

He stood stock still in the doorway, unable to move or even speak. Foxtrot saw him, and he was vaguely aware of her tapping Sofia on the shoulder, and she turned. They locked eyes.

“Sofia…?” he barely dared to say her name, in case he was somehow dreaming. In case she changed her mind and disappeared again.

“Haz,” she said. He managed to take a hesitant step forward -

And all at once the distance between them was closed, she was throwing her arms around him, squeezing him so tightly he could barely breathe but _God_ if this was how he died he would die happy. He hugged her back, hands gripping the fabric of her jacket, he hugged her as if he might lose her again if he let go. She pulled back for a moment, looked straight at him with those gorgeous dark eyes of hers, then kissed him. After a long moment, he stepped back, looking from her, then across to Foxtrot, who appeared to be trying to get Vadim to step out of the room in a hushed argument. She eventually grabbed him and dragged him out, the door shutting behind them. Haz chuckled weakly, then turned back to Sofia.

“I… I don’t…”

“I’m sorry,” Sofia said, taking his hands in hers. “I’m sorry, Haz, I’m sorry for running off, and leaving things like I did, for not properly saying goodbye to you in person, I’m sorry for blowing things up like I did about the Railroad and the memory wipes and everything else. Please forgive me.”

“Sofia…” Haz said, gently raising her chin. “There was nothing to forgive. I’m sorry, I should’ve tried to mediate things better so everything didn’t fall apart, I should’ve been a better bridge between you and Foxtrot. Maybe I should’ve been more discreet with Railroad secrets and none of this would’ve happened, although I’m not sure if I do regret my decisions there. I’m just so _sorry.”_

“Look, we thought this would happen, I talked to Foxtrot,” Sofia giggled quietly through the tears. “We knew there would be this sort of… competition over who takes the blame. But I think it’s better now we’ve all just apologised to each other.”

“We haven’t. Not quite,” Haz said. He walked over to the door, and yanked it open. In the corridor, Foxtrot and Vadim looked up. “Foxtrot.” Haz beckoned her, and she walked out into the bar space. They headed to the sofas, and sat down, all three of them. “I need to apologise. For blowing up at you, both in the initial… confrontation and then afterwards. I should’ve been the voice of reason, should’ve mediated between you and Sofia. I’m sorry for letting you both down.”

“You didn’t, Haz. It’s not your responsibility to keep us in check. We’ve sorted our differences. I never blamed you for even a second. I ruined - well - nearly ruined your relationship, how else were you supposed to feel?” Foxtrot said. “I’m the one who needs to be apologising.” “No, you aren’t. You were doing what you thought to be right, to the best of your ability. Maybe you made a misjudgement, but I shouldn’t have reacted like I did,”

“They changed the protocol around memory wipes,” Sofia said, taking Haz’s hand. He looked up at Foxtrot.

“Really?” She nodded.

“Yup. We don’t recommend them now - just give them as one option of the many.”

“This is what I mean! You made an error, but you solved the problem,” he said. “I… was incredibly hasty. Please… if you’ll still accept my aid as a tourist, I will gladly give it to you.”

“I’ll have to check with HQ, but the gesture is appreciated,” Foxtrot said, starting to smile. Haz barely hoped or dared to believe this was happening. That he was here, with them both beside him.

“So, how did… I don’t understand. How did you both find me? How did you find each other, and what happened to bring this all about?” he said. The two women glanced at each other.

“How about we all head to my room, and we can talk there?” Sofia suggested.

 

That evening, the three sat at a table in the Dugout, their differences all settled, their apologies made and their stories told. Sofia had sung her first set back at the Dugout in some time, dressed in her old polka dot performance dress. Friendly chatter filled the bar, fuelled by Vadim’s questions and alcohol alike. Piper had even dropped in for a while, with Ellie Perkins. It seemed everything was right with the world, as if all the pieces had fitted into place. _This is the way things should be,_ Haz thought as he poured out a drink of whiskey for each of three of them.

“To reconciliation,” Foxtrot said, raising her glass. Her face was brighter somehow, more open than he’d ever known.

“To self-discovery,” Sofia said, holding up her own drink. She glowed in the low lights of the Dugout, happy and content to be back in the place she knew, doing what she loved - and with the one she loved. Haz thought for a moment, staring at his drink, then raised his own glass.

“To unlikely friends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you've made it to the end. Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This is my first published fic, so honestly I'm just glad if you've made it this far.  
> It'll make my day if you leave a comment, but anything and everything is appreciated - I'm just happy if people have enjoyed this!  
> There's a lot of canon character appearances scattered about several chapters, hence the numerous character freeform tags.  
> Haz and Sofia were both developed with the help of a couple of my friends - their concepts and all the writing is mine, but their backstories and personalities were made up with the friends. Foxtrot is entirely my own creation. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at caffeinated-wastelander.tumblr.com for mostly Fallout related shenanigans.


End file.
